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deanmonlover · 3 years ago

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with the lights out

a/n: I couldn't help but write this little blurb about a HC I had a while ago about corey and reader doing some good ol' karaoke while drinking and peepaw myers catching a glimpse of their fun 😂 anyways this was too much fun to write, hope you guys enjoy! 🖤

"I'm not sick but I'm not well and I'm so hot cause I'm in hell!" You sang into the makeshift microphone that was your empty white claw can.

Corey danced alongside you, a beer in one hand and of course chocolate milk in the other.

"Okay that can't taste good together." You made a face at the combination, sticking out your tongue after Corey took a swig of both before running to the sink to spit it out.

"I told you!" You said in a sing song tone, a smirk perched on your lips as you danced a little to the radio playing in the background.

It was 90s and early 2000s night on your favorite radio station. It put that asshole Willy the Kid to shame. You hated that bastard with every fiber of your being for all the horrible things he said about Corey on the air knowing good and well that he was listening.

With a good twirl around the room, you dance playfully to the music. Corey joined you with a little prompting as you grabbed his hands and pulled him back off the couch.

"Paranoia, paranoia everybody's coming to get me just say you never met me!" The two of you join in chorus singing into the empty bottle of chocolate milk.

Nights like this were too much fun. Corey never had this growing up, he didn't get to have fun. That word didn't pop up in his vocabulary until he met you. Love didn't exactly make sense either until you had shown him true affection.

"I'm running underground with the moles, digging holes." You sang, opening another drink to take a sip before setting it on the coffee table.

Corey grinned a little too deviously at that line, a little nod to the recent activity he had been partaking in, in and out of the sewers with Michael. He had been coming home later and later but tonight he got off early saying he had already taken care of a minor problem at work yesterday so Ronald said go have fun.

That translated to 'took care of someone that either was A) bothering you or or B) looking at you' which was probably the latter of the options as it had been a spur of the moment decision to go a party your best friend had been having. It was in another town over so surely no one would have known Corey right off the bat.

And no one did however, there had been a drunk frat boy there that had been eyeing you all night long. Corey definitely noticed and had been keeping tabs on the guy before he acted upon impulses and tried buying you a drink. You declined but the college kid kept insisting having slipped something in your drink when you weren't looking.

Of course your boyfriend had stopped you but not before making the kid drink the spiked beverage right in front of you. You had no clue what had happened to him later but it couldn't have been good because the next morning he had ended up on the news found dead under a bridge.

Corey was always there looking out for you because you did the same for him albeit in different ways but nevertheless the sentiment was there.

You took Corey's hand in your own and led him over to the couch, pushing him down by his shoulders with a playful smile adorning your lips. Straddling his hips, you slowly sink down onto his lap.

Corey's big brown eyes are trained on your every movement his breath hitching in his throat as you slowly roll your hips against his clothed groin. Nirvana's 'Smells like Teen Spirit' played lowly in the background just loud enough for you to lean in and sing softly in your boyfriend's ear.

"With the lights out, it's less dangerous. Here we are now, entertain us." You nipped at his ear playfully, pressing your lips against his cheek trailing lower with the line of heated kisses only stopping to unbutton his flannel. Corey's hands flew up to cup your face in his large calloused hands, practically smashing his own lips against yours.

Fuck he needed you and bad. It had been a hot minute but a mischievous glint shown in your eyes, hands flying up to pull his further down your body.

"Mm, mm it's my turn to give you a show." You purred, reaching up to pull at your tank top revealing a lacy black bra beneath.

Corey had quite boldly commented a while ago how good you looked in it and honestly it had been your favorite ever since.

Just as your hands slowly started to snake down your own waist, creeping towards the hemline on your skirt out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of a blurry shape outside the almost pitch black window illuminated only by the pale moonlight.

You immediately stop, clumsily pulling back down your shirt, narrowing your eyes at the shape.

"Corey?" You questioned.

Too lost in the show he was getting, Corey shifted in his seat, his hands running up and down your supple thighs in anticipation.

"Hmm?" He blinked, snapping out his lust filled daze whenever he felt your warmth leave his lap.

You narrowed your eyes over at the shape lingering outside.

"I'm not giving you and peepaw out there a show. So tell him to go somewhere or close the blinds." You huffed, nodding out to Michael who was standing in normal stance behind a bush just staring into the living room. Corey groaned at the feeling of his hardened cock pushing against the fabric of his now tightened jeans.

"Damn it, get out of here." He motioned for Michael to go somewhere but of course the boogeyman stayed still. Your boyfriend reached backwards pulling the drapes shut promptly before pulling you back down onto his lap with an added thrust eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

"What was that about it being less dangerous with the lights out again?" Corey smirked, reaching for the lamp.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x reader #halloween ends

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thedarkplume · 4 years ago

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Merry Christmas, Mrs. Rogers

for @autumnrose40 I hope you feel better soon!

Disclaimer: The characters within this story are the property of Marvel Comics and Disney. I only own my OC Pumpkin.

Warnings: None

All credit for this beautiful picture goes to @autumnrose40

Who gets sick on Christmas Eve? You did. That’s how much the universe hated you. Instead of spending your first Christmas Eve as a newly married woman, you were laying in bed sick and miserable, unable to even enjoy the light snow falling outside of your window. You should be making cookies and singing softly to Santa Baby, pretending that you don’t notice your husband checking you out.

Worse than being sick, you were unable to pick up your very special Christmas gift.

Sure, you knitted Steve a very nice sweater and bought brand new art supplies because now that he was retired, he felt the inspiration to draw again.

Incidentally, art was the reason you met Steve Rogers. You were at a very low point in your life. You cut the strings on an ex who went behind your back telling lies to your former friends who collectively froze you out. You needed something to lift your spirits and your esteem. You signed up to take a life drawing class. That seemed like the perfect place to start. You were no Picasso, but you loved your art classes in school. The problem was, was that you were wine drunk when you signed up and accidentally put yourself down as the model rather than the artist. You almost chickened out when you were given your robe. But this was what you wanted. Sort of. More than that, you needed to pull yourself out of this painful rut. And you did, wearing nothing but a blush. It was only when the class was over that you realized the Captain Steven Rogers was one of the artists. You might have been more embarrassed if he didn’t shyly ask you for coffee afterward.

But the gift you planned for Steve this Christmas was one of those once-in-a-lifetime gifts that you may never find again.

While you pouted, silently cursing your terrible luck, your phone chimed. Pumpkin, Sam Wilson’s wife, messaged you.

Has Hudson confirmed The Package yet?

You snorted a laugh, but that was a mistake because that led to a coughing fit that was sure to alert your husband toiling away in the kitchen for the two of you. But you couldn’t help it. Pumpkin was so corny it was cute. She and Sam were expecting their first child due in March. They were spending Christmas Eve with Sarah and the kids. Bucky and Nat spent the entire day with them yesterday before setting out for Clint and Laura’s. You tried not to feel sad about Steve having to miss out on being with the rest of the family because of your ill-timed illness.

Not yet. He said there was a 90% chance that it wouldn’t arrive until the new year 😫

😱 He normally works a little faster than that. I'm sorry. Did you get the videos I sent this morning?

Yes! Bucky singing Hungry Eyes to Natasha almost made me cough up a lung 😂

“Sweetheart? I heard you coughing.” You quickly ended the convo before Steve opened the door. “Do you need more medicine?”

You blanched unconsciously. There was no greater torture for you than drinking cough syrup. “No, no, baby, I’m fine. Promise.”

Steve, clearly not believing you, but unable to withstand the pout on your beautiful face, let it go. He came in carrying a serving tray. “I know how you feel about soup,” you hated soup because you could never make it like your Nana. “But I think you might like this. My mother used to make it for me and I think I got her recipe right.”

You smile ruefully knowing that you would love whatever he made. “Thank you.” You set up against the headboard. “I’m really sorry we’re missing spending time with everyone at Sarah’s.”

Steve’s soft pink lips thinned in consternation. “Stop that. You can’t help getting sick. Besides, Sam says that Sarah and Pumpkin are already planning a New Year’s weekend trip for everyone.” Steve carefully scooped up a spoonful of soup to feed you. Your heart fluttered a little bit.

You let the first taste settle on your tongue and hummed. Not only was it the perfect temperature, but you were instantly taken back to those summers you spent with your Nanna, dreading when it was time to leave.

“Oh, Stevie,” your eyes filled with tears. “It’s perfect.”

Steve beamed and began to tell you all about how he made it. Not only did he make you soup, Steve even made your tea exactly how you liked it on the rare occasions you picked tea over coffee, and your favorite cookies. Unfortunately for you, Steve bargained before letting you have even a nibble of the cookies.

“Just one more dose and you can have all the cookies you want.”

“Stevie,” you whined, turning your head away from the spoon like a fussy toddler. “I hate it. It makes me gag.”

“I know it’s disgusting, but you have to take it to get better, honey. Will you do it for me? Please?”

You pouted even harder. Steve looking at you with his eyes so blue and filled with care and love was completely unfair. “You fight dirty, Mr. Rogers.”

“Only when it’s for you, Mrs. Rogers.”

You closed your eyes and swallowed the bitter liquid quickly. You don’t gag, but a shudder racks the length of your body. “Oh my god, that’s nasty!” Steve quickly passed you a Gatorade to wash the icky taste out of your mouth.

“You know, I think you deserve something special for being such a good girl for me.”

“Stevie, I’m too gross and germy for playtime.”

Steve’s lips twitched. “Not that. I was thinking I would draw a bath for you and then we can spend some time by the fireplace if you feel up to it.”

“Yes,” you agreed quickly. Anything that would finally get you out of the bed. You loved every moment of being Mrs. Steve Rogers, but your husband was a complete Mother Hen whenever you got sick.

“I was hoping you would say yes.” Steve picked you up in his arms as if you weighed nothing and carried you to the bathroom. Steam billowed out and immediately, you inhaled the soothing scent of eucalyptus. Steve helped you out of your sleeping gown, blinking in surprise to find you completely bare underneath.

“Didn’t feel like wearing anything else,” you shrug with a blush.

Steve pressed his forehead against yours and growled, “just wait until you’re better, Mrs. Rogers.”

Steve eased you into the perfectly temped water, your eyes closed involuntarily as an easy sigh escaped your lips. Steve washed your back and your hair. His long, strong fingers gently massaged your scalp as he told you an insanely hilarious story involving a bagel and three baby ducks during his latest dog walking expedition. Steve let you soak until the water grew lukewarm. Even sick, you knew how lucky you were to have a man who loved you so wholly and unconditionally.

He dressed you both in his and hers pajama onesies you bought as a joke. On the back of yours, it says, I Love His Beard, while Steve’s says, I Love Her Butt.

Of course, Steve refused to let you walk anywhere while you were sick. He carried you to the living room.

Your jaw dropped at the sight awaiting you. Steve had managed to move the couch and create a blanket and pillow fort across from the fireplace. The sheets were decorated with white fairy lights, your favorite movie was queued to play on the big screen, and Christmas music played softly from your vintage record player. The scent of baked cookies and your favorite candles created a soft ambiance to the scene.

“Oh, Steve, I love it!” He carefully set you down in the center of the pillows. “Wait, where are you going?” you made grabby hands at Steve when he started to pull away.

“I’m just going to run in the kitchen and grab some snacks,” he said, kissing your palm. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve returned a mini charcuterie board filled with all of your favorite fruits and cheeses and more of his delicious homemade cookies. You lay back against his chest as he fed you bites while the movie played in the background.

You barely made it twenty minutes into the movie when you began to succumb to the warmth of your husband’s arms. You were only planning to rest your eyes for a few minutes when there came a knock at the door.

“Who could that be?” you mumbled, still not ready to open your eyes.

“I’ll go see.” As a precaution to you, Steve slipped on his face mask before opening the door.

You tried to stay awake, but between the warmth from the bath and the coziness of the pillows and blankets, you were fighting a losing battle. It was only when you felt Steve’s lips against your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, your eyelids, and the tip of your nose did you force yourself to waken. Steve was perched above you, wide blue eyes filled with tears and wet cheeks.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“My Christmas present was just delivered.” You sat up, looking at the aged leather-bound photo album you ordered from Etsy for Hudson to use for the family photos he managed to track down. “How…?”

You cupped Steve’s damp cheeks in your hands. “I didn’t think it would be here in time, but Pumpkin told me about this guy she found who specializes in investigating family genealogy, and has a knack for restoring damaged photos. I snapped a picture of the painting you made of your mom and emailed it to him. Once I did, he was very eager to do it."

"I never thought I would see my mother's face like this again." Steve hugged you tightly, sobbing softly into your shoulder. "Thank you so much for this."

You carded your fingers through his hair, letting your nails gently scratch his scalp until his tears ran dry. "I'm so glad this made you happy, Stevie."

Steve pulled back, eyes red, but the biggest smile on his face. "Since you've done this for me, it's only right that I give you your gift." Steve grabbed a thinly wrapped package from under the tree. "I was going to wait until you were better, but..."

You eagerly opened the package. You were just like a little kid leading up to Christmas. There were many nights Steve put you over his knee for sneaking out of bed to shake your presents to try and get a sense of what they may be.

"Steve," you whispered, eyes roaming over the card. "There's a new addition to the Rogers family. Introducing Ellie."

"You named her after Carl's wife?"

"Well, Up was the last Disney movie to make you cry."

"I can't wait to meet her, Stevie! Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Rogers."

As the two of you sat wrapped in your blankets and pillows, Steve telling you everything he remembered about the members of his family in the pictures, and planning for the arrival of your first ever fur baby, you had no idea that this time next year, you two will have welcomed your first child.

#christmas fic #for my friend #christmas 2021 #merry christmas mrs. rogers #steve rogers

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vilaneiie · 5 years ago

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No Going Back | Emily Sonnett

first imagine done, lmao hope u guys enjoy!

warnings: a little steamy but nothing nsfw, swearing.

word count: 2,318

You wouldn’t consider you and the blonde in front of you friends. Because you weren’t. But at this point - the late nights talking, the late night walks, the late night occasional sleepovers had to be called something.

In all honesty you couldn’t stand each other. You’d both find something about each other to be annoyed by but it would never get in the way of what you guys had.

“Hey” Emily said for what felt like the fifth time.

Right - she was your roommate. That’s what you guys are. That’s the label you can put on it: Camp roomies.

The girl's attempts at snapping you out of your thoughts finally worked, “what?” you snap back.

She laughs at your tone knowing you didn’t mean it, “what are you doing tonight?” she asks curiously.

You look at her as if she asked the stupidest question, “it’s camp. sleeping probably?”

Emily lets out a sarcastic chuckle, “boring lets do something” she says making an effort to wiggle her eyebrows

You slip back into thinking about how this was like a routine for you two. You’d both find a way to sneak away and do something together. Just the two of you. It may sound suspicious but you both thought it wasn’t.

Starting to get annoyed at nothing really, you lock your phone, “I’m going to Tobin’s room.”

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

“Heads!” You hear but not quick enough, courtesy of the ball that just hit your head.

“What the fuck?!” you let out already having been annoyed and exhausted from the strenuous training session the team had just endured.

“Sorry...” the culprit, Emily says sheepishly in your direction knowing the amount of shit she’ll get from you for this.

Your reputation as the team's asshole, as much as you hate to admit, did proceed you.

“Watch were you’re fucking going Emily” you say, tone laced with venom and not even bothering to look at her.

“More like the ball” a guilty Emily jokes trying to ease up your attitude.

You were about to snark something back but before you could

“Y/N! Take it easy” you look to find Christen Press who had just overheard your conversation. “She’s being annoying, no” you say, sticking your tongue out to show you’re not actually that mad.

“Come kick it with me” Emily offers hoping it equals an apology.

“So you can hit me again?”

“I- will you stop arguing everything I say?”

You give up and get up, snatching the ball from her hand using your other to untie the sweater around her waist for good measure. You try to ignore the fact she froze when your hand touched her as if she panicked but before you could put in more thought you run away with a devious smile on your face.

“So what’s up with you?” the blonde asks now that you’re away from the team.

You guys did this a lot. Never really talking while around the team. You’re both not sure why, part of you thinks it’s because you’re more comfortable with her than anyone else. You’d never admit that out loud though. Neither would she.

“Nothing” you huff our trying to move on.

She takes the hint and you guys continue kicking the ball back and forth for a while, talking about random things like the next friendly, the weather, the fact that Emily’s sister has a boyfriend.

It’s domestic.

“You still wanna do something?” you ask starting to open up to the idea of socialising.

You watch Emily pause, a smile plastering her face, “duh.”

You smile hesitantly trying to hide the bigger one that was trying to break through.

“Okay.”

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

“Bar or restaurant?” your roommate sticks her head out from the bathroom.

You raise your eyebrows jokingly, “is this a date?”

She laughs, “I’m not paying for you.”

You’re half way through applying some makeup before a knock fills the room, replacing the “god awful music” as you call it for a brief moment. You can't ignore the dread that feels you knowing that there’s a chance that whoever is behind the door would tag along tonight.

Making your way to the door you prep yourself as you swing the door open, relief when you see it’s only Jill.

“Hey..?” you drag out thinking that you could be in trouble.

“Hi girls, I’m going around reminding everybody that we have an excursion tomorrow, and the bus leaves at 7 am.”

Emily chuckles, “you couldn’t have just emailed us that?”

Jill smiles, “I couldn’t figure it out.”

You join in the laughter and say your goodbyes, closing the door and sighing out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

“You good?” Emily asks, noticing your behaviour.

“Yeah.”

“And Emily?”

“Yeah?”

You smirk a little, “bar.. 100% bar.”

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

Making your way out of the hotel with ease, you and Emily stand outside waiting for an uber.

“I should have brought a fucking jacket” she says, rubbing her bare arms in attempt to get warm.

You raise an eyebrow, “I literally told you too.”

A few passerby’s overhead what you were saying and giggled at the two of you bicker over the weather.

Emily noticed it but you didn’t. Emily thought about how they probably think that you two were a couple. She pushed it down though.

Finally seeing the uber has arrived you both climb in, and she tells the driver where the two of you are going. You’re pretty sure it’s a dive bar called O’Malley’s but it didn’t bother you both since getting wasted wasn’t the plan.

Boy were you wrong.

4 shots, who knows how many beers and 3 games of pool later it’s pretty safe to say you two were in fact wasted. You had no idea how it happened, you weren’t much of a drinker. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the bar, how boring it was since it was you and Emily plus a few frequent flyers.

You’ve been sneakily touching each other all night. Whether it be hands, hips or legs you both feel empty without the presence of each other. You blame it on the alcohol, while she tells herself it’s nothing.

“I love this song!” Emily slurs in your ear, having no real reason to be that close other than the fact of the bar seats.

You giggle at her excitement, “and?” you ask knowing what’s about to come next.

She hops down from the stool and grabs your arm, “we’re gonna dance, obviously!”

You two spend probably about 10 minutes making fools out of yourselves dancing to classic late 90’s songs while continuing to fill your blood with cheap tasting beer.

The beat of the song that plays gets slower and so do you. Coming closer like magnets you hook your arms around her neck, pretending it’s innocent.

Finding your ear once again Emily whispers, “if you wanted to dance like this you could have just asked” wanting you to know that she’s been wanting to do this for a while.

You almost forget how to breathe before pulling her in closer. Suddenly feeling like you need to touch her. Need to have her closer.

The song picks up as you too continue, to what looks like everyone else grinding on each other. You two call it friendly.

She twirls you around playfully following the beat. Yeah this certifies it. You really can’t breathe. It doesn’t stop you though, pushing yourself back into her.

You know what you’re starting to feel but you can’t stop. It’s like you're stuck together. Her hands make their way down to your waist, the same place you had yours today.

“Y/N” she sort of sighs out.

This is all it takes, the way her voice sounded desperate is what makes you turn back around and smash your lips against hers. She takes a second to react but kisses you back wanting this just as much as you do. It’s fast, it's rushed and it’s hungry. As if you’ve been waiting for this your entire life.

You have.

She has too.

Suddenly remembering that you’re in public you laugh into the kiss before hesitantly pulling away, feeling the temperature rise 100 degrees.

“I’m going to the bathroom!” you yell over the music. Not really sure on what to do next.

Much to Emily’s dismay she internally agrees. Suddenly feels a little too sober now with your presence gone.

Becoming anxious as to what you’re doing she follows you into the dingy bathroom. She shouldn’t have expected a nice one.

“Y/N” she calls out, not wanting to yell just in case there’s someone else there.

Rounding the corner she sees you sitting on the dirty bathroom counter, you both not knowing what to say.

“You okay?” she asks you, it slowly becomes a pattern.

“Are you?” you ask back.

“Asked you first.”

“Come here” you ask her

She pauses for a second, frowning her eyebrows before walking closer to you. More specifically she puts her body in between your legs.

“Hi” you whisper now that she can hear you.

Emily’s not sure what’s about to happen.

“Hi.”

“We’re drunk right?”

“Right.”

“Good” is all you say before leaning in.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

The alarm you forgot you set is what wakes you up, but the sleeping body next to you is what gets you up.

You sit up before remembering last night's events which slows your beating heart.

Looking over to Emily, you’re not sure what’s going through your head. A few thoughts of regrets pass through your head before you tell yourself it’s not really regret. You smirk at yourself remembering what went down stuck in your own bubble before also remembering that you had the alarm the night before for a reason.

The bus leaves at 7:00 am.

It’s 6:50 am.

You’re pretty sure yesterday you thought that since you naturally wake at 6:00 am ish each day the alarm was just a warning.

Shaking Emily you almost get distracted but the adrenaline cuts it off.

“Emily!” you croak out.

The worried sounding “Em!” is what wakes her up.

“Yeah?” she groans sleepily before getting hit by her has to be her jeans.

“The bus leaves in 10 fucking minutes.”

“What? Bus?” she sits up trying to gather her thoughts which her pounding headache is blocking.

You don’t have time to explain before going into the bathroom, hearing a “oh” from the bed knowing that she just figured it out.

“I can't find my pants” you say.

She tries to help you while getting dressed herself but fails, “here just take these” she tells you holding her shorts out with her number on it.

“Emily,” you say, coking your head to get your point across.

“It’s fine” she says rubbing her sleepy eye, “we’re roommates, roommates get their clothes mixed up all the time.”

You were gonna make a Tobin and Christen joke but opt against it once the feeling of anxiety about missing the bus refills you.

“What do we even need to bring” she asks, finally dressed.

“I don’t fucking know” you say panicked.

She grabs you as you walk past.

“Hey” Emily says softly, getting your attention.

“It’s fine, we’re fine. They’ll wait for us. Just grab sneakers, maybe a jacket and I’ll get a backpack.”

Her attempts to calm you down work. So easily. Normally once you feel anxious nothing can ever stop that but she just did.

Focusing on your task you finally feel a little better seeing how it’s now 6:55 am and you’re somewhat ready.

Grabbing sunglasses from the bathroom knowing you’ll need them you look back at Emily who still looks half asleep.

Smiling at yourself, it drops from your face when you see yourself in the mirror.

More specifically our neck.

“Fuck” you mumble under your breath.

Not having time to put makeup over it you grab your concealer, chuck your hoodie on and make your way to the door.

She could tell by the way you’re fixing your hood that it’s so cover something.

“Sorry” she tells you, trying to hide a smile.

“Fuck you” you say half joking half genuine.

“Yeah you did” she hits back quickly.

Before you could even scold her a loud banging at your door makes you both jump.

Since Emily is the closest she answers it, “yeah yeah we’re coming!” she says opening the door to reveal Rose and Mal.

You all greet each other, before the girls in front of you yell at the both of you for being this late.

“They’re going to kill us, let's go.”

Practically jogging through the lobby you both finally make it to the bus, offering an apology to Jill and a few others who're waiting outside for you girls.

Knowing that you’ll be sitting with your bus buddy you make the way down the aisle, searching for Tobin.

The smile on her face tells you 1 of 2 things. Either she knows or she just finds it amusing that you, out of all people were late.

Sitting down in your seat you let out a slow breath trying to calm down your stomach and head.

“Shut up” you tell her, feeling as if she was about to say something

You just get comfortable as you hear your phone ding. Not being bothered to get it from your bag you look at Tobin, silently asking her to get it for you.

“What did you do last night?” she asks teasingly.

She retrieves your phone, furrowing her eyebrows at the number on your shorts that caught her eye when she was coming back up.

She bites her lips to stop a laugh forming before handing you your phone.

When you answer whoever that was texting you, you lean back into the surprisingly comfy bus seat.

Tobin matches you, leaning over with a wide smile.

“I know what you d-i-i-d” she singsongs

#emily sonnett imagine #emily sonnett x reader #emily sonnett #tobin heath #uswnt #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #woso imagine #woso #wlw imagine

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emm-jayy · 5 years ago

Text

unexpected (iv) -Spencer Reid

Summary: everything is blurred as Spencer tries to find you

warnings: drug and alcohol use, gunfire

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

gif not mine

All Spencer could see was white, all he could hear was ringing. He’s not sure how long he was on the ground for, but as soon as he can, he scrambles to his feet. Spencer turns his head every way he can, looking for you.

Yesterday

You and Cameron speed away from the warehouse. You sigh, wind running through your hair as you let it down. Your face might still slightly burn from the slap Hunter had given you, but the cool air of the car makes it feel better.

You had decided to go to Cameron’s apartment before tonight, he lived with a girl, Skylar, that you were good friends with. Well, she had been your partner on a number of jobs, so you had grown close that way.

You pull up to Cameron’s apartment, he throws his keys to you, and you walk up the stairs to unlock it. The apartment was simple, nothing too fancy. Personally, you didn’t have an apartment. You didn’t want anything that could possibly be traced back to you. Sure, Cameron didn’t use his own name, but there were still other ways it could be traced.

You say hey to Skylar, her red hair was down, and she was sporting a septum and eyebrow piercing. You flop down on the couch, graciously taking a drag of the cigarette she was offering. “What have you been up to?” You ask, misting referring to ‘business’ related stuff.

“Hunters happy with me, I've gotten a lot of Cloud Nine onto the streets. And, I found a way to increase profit with it.” Skylar says, smirking. There was a rumor Skylar was sleeping with him, but you knew that wasn’t true. Hunter was too stuck up and proper for that.

“Nice one Sky.” You say, holding your hand up for a high five, and she complies. You see Cameron go over to the fridge, searching for some form of alcohol and/or food, when his phone rings. He sighs, answering with a hello. He turns to you after a moment, mumbling a “yes.” then after a minute, he hangs up.

“We have another job.” Cameron says, closing his phone. You sigh, “What is it?” You ask, a look of disappointment on your face.

“You’ve gotta call your FBI buddy tonight.” Cameron states, and you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You obviously didn’t think that you would have to speak to Spencer ever again. You thought that in a few years he would be a ghost of a memory, but you could still revel in the touches you shared.

“Why? What do I have to say?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. Cameron looks at you, slight regret in his eyes.

“We are going to burn down NorthGate Plaza.” He says, and shock fills your body. Noctiphany had never done something so major before. This was a huge step up for the publicity of the organization.

“Why do I have to call that agent?” You ask Cameron. “To get his team there. Boss wants a lot of cops and publicity to show how easily we can get away.” Cameron explains.

You look to Skylar, and then a smile forms on your face, “As long as we can get black out drunk after.” You say, a small laugh coming from you. Cameron rolls his eyes, and agrees, “You’ve gotta call him around 9.” He says, and you nod. You need something to do for the remaining four hours, so you spend that time watching shitty soap operas, and eating horrible, but somehow delicious food.

Your heart is racing at 9. You knew that you would hang up the disposable cell phone before Spencer could even respond, but it still filled your body with anxiety. You had what you were supposed to say written out on the table, a time and place. You dialed the number, and held the phone to your ear. You don’t even wait for a greeting before delivering the message.

“9:00 pm, tomorrow, at NorthGate plaza. Be ready, Princess.” You say, and hang up the phone as quickly as you can. The nickname had just slid off your tongue, a cursed reminder to Spencer about the times you had shared, a reminder of the betrayal he felt.

A chill ran down your spine, something that often happened before you began to cry. You set the phone down, and clear your throat, “C'mon guys, let’s go celebrate.” You say, clasping your hands together. Cameron and Skylar smile, and you all head out the door.

You have to enter the bar from a door in the back, and you must know the password. Cameron knocks on the door the specific way, and tells the bouncer the password. The door opens, and you take in the scene. The bar is dimly lit with warm toned lights. You can smell the stale beer and liquor in the air, it wasn’t necessarily the best smell, but you had associated it with good memories.

You tell Ben, the bartender that was usually working, your order of Jack and Coke. He nods, and begins to make it for you. You take it graciously, and turn back to your friends. Skylar has a slick smirk on her face, and you question it.

“I know that look Sky, what do you have?” You say, copying her smirk. She pulls a bag out of her pocket, and you recognize it as Cloud Nine.

You roll your eyes, “Just give me a half.” You say. While you did want all of your problems to float away, you didn’t want tomorrow to be all hell. In fact, you had never actually tried Cloud Nine for that reason. For the work you did, you needed your mind to be sharp. Given the events that had occurred recently though, you decided to give yourself a break.

You down the pill Skylar gives you, impatiently waiting the 15-20 minutes it takes to kick in. You stir your drink, and talk about Cameron’s latest job he was on. It was only whenever you got out of your chair to order another drink, when you realized the effects. You feel as though you are walking on nothing, and you begin to giggle.

The 80s and 90s mix in the bar makes you move and sway your hips. You feel a body behind you, and it’s Cameron. You smile, jokingly moving your hips against his, and he plays along seemingly grinding into you. You hear the people around you laughing, cheering you on as you dance.

What you didn’t know is that Cameron had actually not taken any Cloud Nine, and was completely sober. Also, no one told you about the horrible come down of Cloud Nine.

An hour and a half after you took your half of the pill, you are sitting at a table with your head in your hands, almost in tears. You were ranting about everything wrong in your life, but something specific had seemed to grab Cameron’s attention.

“And that whole thing with the FBI agent, Spencer Reid.” You said, and Cameron’s ears perked up, “I know it was supposed to be a fuck and duck, but I think I’m in love with him.” You confess. You attempt to stop yourself, but the words keep coming, “I can’t stop thinking about him, and how good it felt that one time that I slept in his arms.” You sigh, this was the only time you had really confronted your feelings on the whole situation.

Skylar held your arm sympathetically, “You will get closure tomorrow.” She says, her words slurring slightly. You nod, eyes still watery.

“Come on guys. We need to get back to the apartment.” Cameron says, pulling you and Skylar up by your arms. You follow his lead, stumbling all the way into the backseat of the car. You drift in and out of sleep on the way back to the apartment. Cameron helps you and Skylar to the door, and through the living room. You chug the cup of water he gives you, and collapse on the air mattress in the living room.

You wake up the next morning with an awful pounding in your head. You groan, rubbing your eyes as they adjust to the light. You hear a slight laugh from in front of you, and you open your eyes fully.

“I feel like a mom, making bacon and eggs for my kids.” Cameron says, a nervous laugh falling from his lips, He moves the pan back and forth on the burner. You laugh slightly, taking in the smell of bacon. It had been a while since you had one of these breakfasts. You, Cameron and Skylar liked to have a nice breakfast before you went on a job.

You grab the cheap paper plates off of the counter, and impatiently wait for the bacon to be done. You needed something greasy after the terrible hangover you were enduring.

You could see that Cameron was sneaking glances up at you, but you decided to ignore it. You rub your head again, attempting to remember the events of last night. All you can remember is clouded vision, feeling light, and dancing provocatively against your friends.

Before you ask Cameron what happened last night, you hear Skylar walk into the room, exhibiting the same actions as you. You laugh, “Last night was crazy huh?” You say, smirking at Skylar.

“I’ll say.” She says, returning the smile. You turn to Cameron, noting his gritted teeth. “Did you end up driving us home?” You ask him, attempting to meet his eyes, but to no avail.

“Yeah.” Cameron says, finally turning to you, “After you declared your love for that FBI agent to the entire bar, I decided to take you and Sky home.” He says, shaking his head.

“Woah.” You say, laughing slightly. “I was obviously coming down from Cloud Nine. You know how emotional that stuff makes you.” You say, making slight excuses for yourself. You put your hand on Cameron’s shoulder in an attempt to make him feel better.

“Eh, you’re right.” Cameron says, a smirk ghosting his face. You laugh, “Loving a cop? A fed no less? Come on.” You add, and that brings a full on smile to his face.

“Let’s eat.” Cameron says, “We have a lot of prep to do.”

Skylar was skilled with computers, but attempting to access files from the FBI and local law enforcement was still difficult. She was attempting to figure out how many agents would be at the plaza that night. She was trying to access phone and email records to see if they had called in SWAT teams.

“Let’s just assume that the whole nine yards is there. What do we do?” You ask, addressing both Cameron and Skylar.

“We need to make a threat.” Cameron says, “I say that we tell them that the plaza is already soaked head to toe in gasoline, and then we threaten them by lighting a match.” Cameron says, a devilish glint in his eyes. “Knowing that not even the FBI can help everyone feel safe will freak everyone out.” He says.

You nod in agreement, “But what if they think that we are bluffing, and they shoot us?” You ask, biting your thumbnail. Cameron throws his hands up, “We are just doing to have to take that chance.”

This back and forth goes on for a while. Cameron insists that Hunter needs this done a certain way, otherwise he could kick him out of the organization. It seemed as though Cameron thought he was in charge, when you knew it was your ass on the line. You had been in the organization far longer, and just because you, Cameron, and Skylar were in the same rank, didn’t mean quite a lot. You (in your opinion) were far more skilled at most everything.

Skylar stays neutral for most of the conversation, until you ask her, “What do you think?” She seems shocked by your words, not many people seemed to include her in conversations. She was more like a jack of all trades, master of none. You however, managed in stealth and secrecy. Cameron managed in planning, and financial gain. Skylar knew how to do almost everything, and you respected her for that.

“I agree with Cameron. We have to have a threat otherwise they won’t take us seriously.” She says, giving you a sympathetic look. Another thing you respected about Skylar was that she wasn’t really meant for this job either. She just took what she was given. She didn’t have to be in this line of work. She could have used her skills in many other places.

You nod, you always trusted Sky more than Cameron to a fault. “Alright, that’s what we’ll do.” You glance at the clock, the time being about 4. You groan, time passing was one of the worst things about this job. Having a smartphone was a big no. The police and FBI tracking that was way too easy. You had to watch TV and occasionally read books for entertainment. You had sometimes opted for different ways to sharpen your skills. Learning simple gymnastics and tumbling was one. Your small frame made it easy to slip through gaps. This aided in your speciality of stealth.

You flop back onto the couch, “Sky, any luck with getting into the database?” You ask, looking over at her, and she shakes her head, “I have to be extremely careful, because if they know i’m in they will trace it back to me.” She says, her voice trailing off as she types faster.

You nod, getting up to get another water bottle. Your nerves were still racing at the thought of seeing Spencer, but you were trying to suppress them. You kept trying to remember that you were dedicated to this organization. That relationships were not supposed to stand in the way of that. Yet your mind keeps drifting back to the way he held you. Could it have been love? The way his hands grazed you hips in the shower, the way his arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer. Was it love?

You coughed at the realization, forgetting that you had to actually drink the water amidst your thoughts. Cameron comes up behind you, patting and rubbing your back to help you regain breath. You furrow your eyebrows, he had never been this physical with you. It might’ve been odd, but you chalked it up to just a weird situation.

You needed to get ready for tonight, so you attempt to find something to wear. All black, but make it chic, you thought. One of the few things you enjoyed about the job was the clothes. Oddly enough, you enjoyed the ‘Criminal Aesthetic’.

You picked a typical all black ensemble. The gun holsters that you had sewn onto the pants were not to be used today. It was about burning down the plaza. While killing officers might bring fear to the public, they would cover it up. Burning down a public building that everyone felt safe in? That was a good plan.

You pulled on the tight long-sleeved black shirt, and the black cargo pants. You applied red lipstick with dark eye makeup. Were you doing this so that Spencer would see you and his eyes would go immediately to you? You weren’t sure.

You let your hair down as you walk back into the living room of the small apartment. Skylar sees you, giving a ‘Damnnn’ and you laugh. While you had told the feds 9, you knew that really meant 8:30. So at 8, you pile into the nondescript car, and you are on your way.

You park the car a good walk away from the plaza, and walk up to the center of it. As soon as you can hear cars in the distance, you expect Cameron to pull out matches. Instead, he pulls out a gun, “I’m sorry to have to do this Y/n.” He says, cocking the gun and pointing it towards you.

You freeze. Long enough for Cameron to put you in front of him, a gun pointed to your head. You see the black SUVs pull up, and fear rakes through your body. This is not how you thought you would be seeing Spencer again.

Spencer walks out of the car, putting his hands up. You attempt to warn him, but to no avail. Spencer, the hero he is, wants to save you. You hear the anger in Cameron’s voice, and you slip away once again, warning Spencer.

“It’s okay Princess.” Spencer says, and it’s hard for you not to smile at the nickname. Spencer begins to challenge Cameron, speaking about all the times you shared together.

Cameron spits out the words, “She wants me.” And you automatically attempt to yell no against his hand. Spencer looks at you, and you can tell automatically what he’s trying to tell you with his eyes. It’s interesting how you could do that with someone you hadn’t known for more than 2 weeks.

They say that Whenever your life is in danger, it seems like your true feelings about everything surface. In that moment, you knew your true feelings about Spencer. You knew that you loved him, and that maybe he loved you back.

Everything blurs together as you hear gunfire, and everything goes white for a moment.

Spencer is trying to look for you, his eyesight is still blurred. Finally, he sees you, your leg is hurt, and the man who was holding you at gunpoint is trying to pull you away.

Spencer doesn’t hesitate, he runs as fast as he can, trying to catch up to you. He finally does, tackling you to the ground. The man that was pulling you looks back, and seemingly decides that you’re not worth it. He runs off.

Spencer takes a breath, looking over your body for an injury. He sees that it’s your leg that’s injured, a bullet had hit your thigh. With Spencer’s limited medical training, he concludes that you will be fine. You will still need to go to the hospital, and you’ll need to have an agent or officer go with you. Spencer decides without anyone approving, that it will be him.

He does what he has to, and pulls your arms behind your back to handcuff them. He takes a look at your face, there is no smirk on your face this time. Just regret and sadness.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer says quietly, and you nod, understanding. He helps you get up, “How much pressure can you put on it?” He asks, and you groan at the feeling of trying to walk. Spencer, without hesitation, puts you on him and walks you to the ambulance that had arrived.

The medics take over from there, they ask if Spencer is hurt, and he shakes his head. He is zoned out, only focused on you when Morgan comes up behind him. “Are you okay?” He asks, looking at Spencer.

“Yeah, are you guys not chasing that guy?” Spencer asks, a harsh tone in his voice. From behind him, he hears a groan, “He had a getaway car. You’ll never find him.” You say, and Spencer turns to you.

“Where would he go?” He asks you, searching your face. You have a small smile on your face. “I can tell you the address of the apartment we were at, but I highly doubt they’ll go back there.” You say, and the medics lift you in the ambulance.

Spencer turns to Morgan, “I’m riding with her.” He says, matter-of-factly. Before Morgan can tell him no, he’s already climbing in.

On the way to the hospital, Spencer wanted to hold your hand. Instead, he settled on putting his hand on top of yours.

Spencer stands outside of your hospital room. The officer assigned outside of your room was looking at him a bit weird, but he didn’t care. He needed to be in there. To everyone else, he was conducting an interview, but there were other things he needed to get off his chest.

He finally works up the courage to go in there, telling the officer that he has this. The officer walks away, presumably to take a break.

Spencer walks into the room, and you turn your head, smiling at him. “Hey princess.” You say, but Spencer sees through your behavior.

He sees the fear in your demeanor, the regret in your eyes. The way your face falls after sentences.

He can’t help it, he turns your face, and captures your lips in a soft, short kiss. When he pulls away, you nod, “I’m sorry.” You say, tears threatening to fall down your face.

The memories of betrayal and hurt go out the window whenever Spencer sees you cry. He wraps you in a hug. “It’s okay.” He mutters over and over again. Whenever he pulls away, he gives you a sweet smile.

“I have to ask you some questions princess.” He says, pulling out a notepad. He didn’t need the notepad, he just needed something to occupy his hands so that he didn’t put them on you.

He asks you many questions, and he has to assume you’re telling the truth. You were betrayed by the organization, and seemingly your best friends.

After asking all the questions he needs to, he squeezes your hand, and gives you a bittersweet goodbye. Spencer walks out of the hospital room, and he presses his back against the door.

Your trial would be very soon, and he was terrified for the results.

@1800-fight-me @rachel-rebellio @itsarayofsunshine @cupcake525 @soupmakesmynoserun @elizabethkaylynn @drspencr @mattgraygubler @reid-187 @darling-doll9 @disney-dreams-world @myfavbau @softpeteparker @chaoticsteverogers @throughparisallthroughrome @whollytaciturn @imsuperawkward @pinkprinceamjoon @spenciereiddd @pinkdiamond1016 @futuremrsdrreid @aperrywilliams @pprettyboyreid @reidswords

#spencer reid #criminal minds #cm #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #mgg #matthew gray gubler #gublergram #gublernation #gube #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds edit #68 kill

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trillian-anders · 5 years ago

Text

suspect - iii

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: descriptive violence, graphic descriptions of crime scenes, angst, slow burn

word count: 4.3k

description: au detective!bucky barnes x investigative journalist!reader;

still wet behind his ears, detective barnes is given his very first homicide case, a woman no one seems to care about had been murdered. it’s only when investigative journalist reader brings the small details to his attention that he realizes there’s a bigger problem. a serial killer no one was paying attention to.

The smell of death. It is unlike any other smell and once it’s something you experience; you’ll never forget it.

Bucky thought he’d seen bad crime scenes. He thought the last body he’d seen had been the worst one. But he was proven wrong. He gagged entering the small apartment, immediately being hit with the smell. Even through the face mask it hit him fully that this body must have been decomposing for a while.

He walks to the back bedroom, the forensics team snapping pictures and bagging evidence in the living rom as he walked by. The first thing he sees when he enters the room are her feet. Her ankles bound to the bed with rope, her skin puffed up around the rope itself. The ties are tight. She’s naked, her eyes are swollen shut, he could see the ligature marks around her neck, her wrists bound to the top frame of the bed. A pool of blood under her left arm, dried and crusted. Her ring finger gone.

“How long do you think?” Bucky asked. The head coroner, Bruce, his arms crossed staring at the body. Bruce shakes his head and sighs heavily.

“Anywhere from… five days to a little over a week probably.” He squats down by the side of the bed, peeking into her nostrils, Bucky gagged when he noticed the maggots. Leaving the room and trying to keep his vomit down. As he stepped out on the asphalt outside, he ripped the mask from his face taking gulps of fresh air.

Later he would wash himself with lemons and stick his nose into a bag of coffee grounds. The smell burned itself into his nostrils and the image was hard to shake. He didn’t know if he would ever sleep again.

This time he did shave, his shaky hands nicking the skin of his neck. He tied his clothes in a black trash bag and set it with his laundry, something to be tackled later and he grabbed the manila folder on his coffee table. The ripped open envelope of Cheryl Hansen’s toxicology report.

The diner was familiar to him now, and he found you at the exact same booth you’d been in last time. The notebook in front of you, laptop closed off to the side. You had a cup of coffee sitting in front of you and an empty one across. The stainless thermos pot left on the table for him to serve himself.

“Jean is the only one on right now,” You explain to him, and the woman he assumed was Jean was dealing with a couple drunks and other late-night patrons. He pours himself a cup of coffee.

“Sorry for being late,” He sighs, “I had to get the smell off me.” You hum and he watches you shiver.

“It’s powerful.” You agree. And he wonders how you know what it smells like.

“Cheryl wasn’t the first victim.” He explains, setting the manila folder on the table, the open toxicology report of Cheryl’s on top. “Christine Jones was.” You sigh, looking over his hastily written notes. Everything he’d written down at the scene. How he found the body. What it looked like. What the apartment looked like. He gave you a minute while he made his coffee, plucking a creamer out of the bowl that had been left for the two of you.

“This had to have been his first,” You sigh, “The copycat… the Butcher usually doesn’t leave that kind of bloody mess.” Where her ring finger had been cut. The blood dripping down her arm.

“He usually cleans them up after.” He agrees. The blood from the finger was always cleaned before the body was disposed. His mind goes back to Cheryl’s hand. Her finger cut off at the joint, the blood half clotted like it had been done… “He cuts them off when they’re still alive.” You look up at him from the paper.

“What?”

“The finger,” Bucky explains, “He cuts them off while the girls are still alive.” It rolled like acid in his stomach.

“The Butcher didn’t do that.” Both of you know he didn’t. The Boston Butcher would take the ring finger, but it was always postmortem, the blood unable to clot. The blood unable to pump out through a cut off finger. He watches you cross your arms, leaning back against the booth, thinking. “So this copycat… he wants to murder, but he’s not confident.” You offer, “So he finds Christine… and ties her up.”

“And he removes her finger, and then strangles her.” Bucky finishes, sighing and placing his head into his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening, honestly.” A rough chuckle, “You were right.” The clink of your spoon on the little dish.

“I didn’t want to be.” You admit, “Honestly, but if this guy just killed twice in the same week…”

“Then he’s going to strike again soon.” He watches you swallow harshly, looking out the window of the diner into the parking lot.

“Where are her kids?” Bucky hadn’t known she had kids, but they apparently had been taken away by child protective services and were in foster care. Christine was struggling with a drug habit and had been disowned by her family.

He could tell how much it affected you.

“Tomorrow,” He says, “After a good night’s sleep…” which he sorely needed, “Are you able to help me talk to some of the girls?” He watches you nod, still staring out into the parking lot. You seem dazed and off kilter.

“Of course.”

Bucky wasn’t prideful, you decided. Which was a good quality in a person. You admired the fact that when you saw him in the coffee shop yesterday, he gave you faith in his belief, that maybe you could be right. He didn’t downplay it then. You admired him in the diner when he asked for your help even though 24 hours before he hadn’t truly believed you.

But you couldn’t sleep. You felt restless and sweat through your sheets. The normal lullaby of sirens and drunk yelling on the street was causing you stress and you were paranoid. You cleaned your entire apartment, clearing out your fridge, wiping down every surface and scrubbed the grout until you were to the point of exhaustion, falling asleep with the smell of bleach on your fingertips.

“You look like shit.” Sam said the next day, passing by your desk on his way in. You groaned, accepting the coffee he’d brought for you. The first sip as life’s blood, the first coffee of the day emptied and discarded in the trash can under your desk. “So, we’ve got a bigger story than we originally thought.”

“I’ll have five hundred on your desk in an hour,” You yawn, “Then I have to work on collections for the food drive.”

“When are you seeing the handsome detective again?” He asked, slight smirk as your brow furrows, “You told Riley he has strikingly blue eyes.” An eye roll made him laugh, “I’m just saying, maybe it’s kismet.” Like him and Riley.

“I’ve got work to do Sam.” He raised his hands defensively.

“You know where to find me if you want to talk.” A playful smirk on his face as he disappeared into his office.

Bucky was feeling a little better, sleeping in his own bed for longer than two hours made him feel far less fatigued and ready to tackle the day. Walking into the precinct he had a strange feeling and that feeling was further enraged by how serious Rumlow looked and Rumlow hardly ever looked serious.

“The Chief is here.” Rumlow tells him. Bucky’s eyes meet the glass window of Steve’s office, but the blinds are shut. “We’re going to have a meeting after this to talk about your vics.” Bucky’s stomach turned, which seemed to happen a lot lately. Queasy. The protein bar he shoved down for his breakfast sat like a brick in his stomach.

Alexander Pierce was a hard ass. In the three times he’s met Peirce face to face the man always had some kind of sneer on his face, like he knew he was better than everyone else.

“He likes the power.” Steve told him once while they were sitting on his back deck, and taking a sip from his beer Steve said, “He’s a prick.” Steve hated the guy and Bucky had to agree with him.

“We are starting a task force.” Pierce announced. “Our aim is to keep it under the radar,” His hands held the sides of the podium, like he was the President giving the State of the Union Address. “Which means the following, no talking to the press, no interviews, no leaked information. This is a closed-circuit case.” His eyes scanning the room, “The task force should not deter other normal duties and the numbers we require from you.”

The arrest numbers, a fucking joke. Like looking good on paper mattered more than serving and protecting. His eyes rest on Bucky, “Seeing as Barnes is the one who discovered the copycat, he will be leading the task force along with Rumlow. An agent from the FBI will be coming up to assist with the investigation. You two will decide who else will be helping you track down a suspect. I expect this not to get out to the media.” His eyes focused in on Bucky, “Under no circumstances do we want attention pulled to these murders. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Rumlow answered beside him. Bucky felt himself nod. He’s going to have to figure something out, or at least something to tell you.

…

Wanda and her brother Pietro were just two of the children left behind by one of the Boston Butcher’s victims. Magda Eisenhardt. Right at the end, Magda had been one of his last victims in the 90’s. But the twins kept themselves busy, while they worked for the victim’s relief fund, they also ran their own food collection and homeless shelter. The hand they were dealt, even after foster care was much worse than your own and they sympathized heavily with people left on the streets.

Your bag had quickly been discarded in the back office and you went to join Wanda in wiping down and organizing cans and packaged goods. It was a big drop off day, which meant you might be able to grab some to bring Sophie some groceries later. Someone, very kindly, donated the rest of their baby formula. A Boston mom who had enough money to buy in bulk.

“You think we can give her a couple cans?” You lift the two in your hand. “I think she’s pretty low.” Wanda nods, scribbling onto the clipboard before tapping it down on the counter.

“Is he really back?” Soft and unsure. Like she didn’t want the actual answer. She looks at you, terrified. You let out a deep breath.

“I think so.” She sinks into the chair behind her and you set the two cans down on the table before walking over to hug her.

“I talked to Nick yesterday.” Her hand rubbing your arm that was wrapped around her shoulders. “Maybe this is what we need to help us get him out.” You sigh,

“I think it’s a copycat,” She looks up at you, “but if he sees that it’s happening maybe the real Butcher will get angry that someone is doing such a sloppy job.” A moment of silence, Wanda sheds a tear and quickly wipes it away.

“I think we can give her those and you can take her some of the pasta and canned veggies.” Standing and removing herself from your arms, grabbing a cloth tote and putting the formula and aforementioned items inside and putting it off to the side. Wanda took the death of her Mother very hard. She had been in therapy for a long time and to your knowledge she still goes, once a week like clockwork.

Pietro told you once that she feels guilty, but you couldn’t imagine why. “She feels like it’s her fault.” Over coffee, “Like our Mom buying her a barbie dream house was the thing that got her killed.” Wanda knows it wasn’t her fault. Realistically. But more in practice it was a nagging guilt in the back of her brain that made her feel like she needed to do so much good in the world to make up for the fact that her Mom needed to make money and she’d cried and whined about wanting a Barbie dreamhouse for her birthday.

“Selfish.” She’d said once.

“You’re not selfish,” You would say, “How would you have known?” How could anyone know? You don’t know when it’s going to be the last time you talk to someone. You can’t possibly know when it’s that person’s last day. And there’s no way of knowing at six years old that your Mother will be ripped from this world by a psycho.

She always answered with a shrug.

“I’m meeting with the detective tonight,” You tell her, “We’re going to go try to talk to some of the girls.” She nods, turning to you her face a little red and blotchy,

“I’ll put the feelers out here,” She says, “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” You wrap her into a hug. Her arms tight around you.

“I’ll check back in tomorrow?” She nods, squeezing you a little harder before letting go. “Tell Pietro I said hi.”

“I will.”

…

Bucky was struggling and it wasn’t just because Rumlow hadn’t shut up since the meeting. But because he didn’t know what to do with you now. He knew the girls wouldn’t talk to him, and they definitely wouldn’t talk to Rumlow, but Pierce seemed to know about you. He seemed to know about the contact that Bucky had with you. Or maybe Bucky was just paranoid.

“He’s hoping to see you fail.” Steve told him, “That’s why he left you in charge… don’t let him win.” It made him uneasy. This could make or break him now and that fact did not go over his head. He could feel it as soon as Pierce said that he would oversee the task force. Just waiting for him to fail and slip real easy back behind his desk.

He sunk down behind his desk, drafting a text. Rumlow was going to be going with him to try to question some of the girls and Bucky knows that if you went with him to meet them Rumlow would have an issue with it. Especially since Pierce made such a big deal about it. No doubt he would try to kiss ass and gain favor by exploiting you.

Can’t meet up to interview. Meet at diner later?

He sighs, phone dropping heavily onto the desk. He looked across the room watching Rumlow speak closely with Pierce. It gave him a strange feeling. Like they were in on something he wasn’t. It wasn’t a secret that they knew each other. Pierce was the reason why Rumlow had even became a detective. Rumlow liked to boast nepotism between Steve and Bucky but he forgets that his own Stepfather is Chief of Police.

Rumlow doesn’t like to mention him and from the very few times Pierce had been brought up in his presence he’d visibly tensed. Bucky assumed that their relationship was strained, but the close and intimate conversation they were currently having would tell him otherwise.

Bucky cracked his knuckles. His phone dinged. Your reply,

I can go alone, diner when?

A huff, he texts back.

DO NOT GO ALONE. Just meet at diner around 12.

How dumb are you? Trying to go out alone when an active serial killer was on the loose, strolling around the red-light district by yourself. You either had a lot of confidence or a death wish.

I know someone, I’ll go talk to them and then meet you at the diner.

His brow furrows and he shook his head in disbelief,

Who do you know?

“Let’s go.” Rumlow grabs his jacket from the back of his chair and walks past Bucky without stopping. A glance up at where Pierce and Rumlow had just been talking showed Pierce glaring at his stepson’s back, his eyes flit to Bucky’s and his face became stone before turning his back.

The girls stood in small groups. Two or three, occasionally four. Whittled one by one until there would be a single girl standing alone. That’s when it would get dangerous. The goal, overall, was to see if the girls had dealt with anyone out of the ordinary lately.

Typically, serials don’t just start killing out of nowhere. There’s a steady progression of assault. Maybe there’s a guy who is a little aggressive. Maybe there’s a guy they get a bad feeling about. And hopefully someone would be willing to talk.

…

Sophie gave you a name when you’d dropped off the formula and canned goods. A girl Cheryl was really close with. “She said they were coworkers.” Sophie told you, “So she’s probably in the same situation.” A quick look found her address, not too far from where Sophie lived. You were going attempt to drop by, see if she was in and if not… then you would just have to go see if any of the girls would talk to you.

A knock on the apartment door, you could hear something going on inside. She must be home. Or at least, someone is. The door is ripped open, the chain jerked tight against the opening as a man looks out at you from inside.

“Can I help you?” Not friendly, not that you expected him to be.

“Is Angel here?” He pauses, looking behind him for a moment and talking to someone in the room before turning back.

“Who are you?” He didn’t turn you away so that’s good at least.

“I’m a friend of Sophie’s.” You cross your arms across your chest, feeling a chill. “Sophie told me to come talk to Angel about Cherry.” He looked back into the room, shutting the door and then reopening it, stepping back.

“Come on.” His head poking out into the hallway and shutting the door behind you. You could see the girl you were looking for, sitting just before you on the couch, curled up into herself, sniffling. Her eyes were red, hair messy and a tissue in her hand.

“What do you want?” She sounds congested and she doesn’t get up when you walk further into the apartment.

“I’m Y/N,” You offer, “I work with the VRF for those affected by—”

“The Butcher.” She nods, “I’ve heard.” You nod,

“Do you know who Cherry went with that night? Have you seen anyone suspicious?” A humorless laugh,

“Most of the johns are suspicious.” She shakes her head. But that’s fair, “I saw her get into the car, but I wasn’t paying attention to the plate or anything. It was normal…” A harsh swallow, “It just seemed so normal.”

“Do you remember anything about the car itself?” Sinking down onto the couch next to her, “Anything identifiable? Color? Make? Model?” She shrugs, balling the tissue into her fist.

“It was like… it looked like a cop car, but it wasn’t.”

“Like one of the ones they sell at auction.” The man spoke from his spot in the doorway, “An old police cruiser that had been stripped and sold and probably sold at auction.” You nod,

“Okay,” That’s helpful. Really helpful. “Did you get a glimpse of who was in the car, by any chance?”

“No.” She looks at her knees, “I’ve been afraid to go back out, since they found her.” Understandably so, “But I’m going to have to…” A pause, “I think you should go.”

It was clear she was having a hard time, you truly felt bad for her. The situation she must be in. “If you think of anything else.” She nods, taking the business card. Stepping back out onto the street you found yourself a little more confident than before.

A police cruiser gone to auction was a lead. It would at least give you a list of suspects. The excitement in that, was unreal.

��

Bucky rest his head on the steering wheel after having parked in front of the diner. His head pounding. He honestly didn’t know how much longer he would be able to do this and it just started. He felt like he would gain an inch, a girl willing to say something. Anything, and as soon as she started to open up and get some real ground with him, Rumlow would say something cheap.

He’s fucking up the investigation.

But it’s just him. Bucky thought Rumlow was a good detective. Before this. But now, how did the guy solve anything? He clearly made the girl uncomfortable. And he wanted to throttle Rumlow when her voice resigned, said, “I have to get going.” Before moving to a different block.

“They’re disgusting.” Rumlow spat on the ground. Bucky groaned at the smell of dip spit. “Like talk about lack of dignity.”

“They’re people too.” Bucky wanted to go. Maybe this is how he fails, Rumlow is his iron anchor, drowning him. A knock on his window startles him, sitting back in his drivers’ seat and sighing he sees your face through the glass and kills the ignition.

“You good?” You ask him as he steps from the car. He scrubs his hand over his face, head still pounding.

“Yeah, I think I just need to eat.” He watches Marie give you a strange look as the two of you walk to what seemed to be your normal table, something you shrug off as you drop your bag heavily on the seat squished between you and the window as he sat across from you.

Soda and iced tea. Bucky ordered a burger and you a club sandwich.

“They don’t want me talking to you,” He starts with. “Chief made it clear that he wanted no press involvement.” You sigh across from him,

“So what are you going to do?” He was trying to read your face, but you seemed as though you’d been expecting him to say that. Like it didn’t surprise you in the slightest. He thought about it.

He thought about what he wanted to do. He’d been thinking about it all day. “My gut is telling me to work with you.” He sits back as Marie comes with the plates, a soft thank you and a smile. “I want to work with you.” And he wanted to know more. Why you ran this relief fund. Why you were so passionate about it. He had a theory. But he would need to look into it a bit more, or he could just ask.

“I got a lead.” You grin at him, plucking a fry from your plate, “So Angela Bennet, she goes by Angel, a friend of Cheryl’s, she said she saw Cheryl get into a retired police cruiser, like the ones they sell at auction.” He feels his mouth drop slightly,

“Like the old white and blue Fords?” You nod, popping another fry into your mouth.

“I can run a search for cars gone to auction.” He takes a bite of his burger. Maybe that’s something else he can talk to Steve about. Steve bought his Dad’s old cruiser years ago as a novelty. Steve often cleared stuff for auction and would maybe help him profile someone who would want to buy a police cruiser, maybe the type of guys that would go to those auctions to buy. “My friend Steve, he would know more about the old cruisers.” They’d had a huge overhaul in 2015 at their precinct. New, updated cruisers with more bells and whistles. They’d gone out in reliability in the last decade of having them.

“If you could get a good picture of one,” You start, “We can start asking around.” That was a good idea.

“Tomorrow, maybe we should go talk to Fury.” If Fury was the Butcher, then he would be able to give them some insight into what kind of person they’re looking for. If he wasn’t… well Bucky could cross that bridge when he got to it.

“I can’t tomorrow.” You take a sip of your drink, “We have the group meeting tomorrow for the VRF.”

“Do a lot of people go to that?” How had he never heard of this before? You shrug,

“We pull a descent crowd.”

“Well maybe that’s what we could do tomorrow.” And he could talk to some of the people attached to the 90’s cases. Get some information, “But I would have to bring Rumlow.” He just wanted to get rid of him, this pain in his ass, Rumlow the insensitive shit.

“Why?” Bucky sighs, sitting back against the booth.

“He’s my partner for the case now that it’s a serial.” A shake of his head, “They’re sending someone up from the FBI too, trying to get ahead of it.” You roll your eyes across from him.

“Ahead of the bad press, you mean.” A harsh sigh, “Back in the 90’s they did the same thing, no one even knew that the Butcher existed until they took Fury in for questioning.” Maybe he should ask. Maybe he should just…

“How do you know so much about this?” He watched you stiffen slightly, “Why are you so invested?” You dropped the fry you’d been toying with back on your plate before sighing and leaning back, matching his posture.

“Because my Mom was one of the victims.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #steve rogers #sam wilson #alexander pierce #brock rumlow #detective!bucky #detective!bucky barnes #au

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doc-pickles · 5 years ago

Text

it’s nothing funny just to talk (p.3)

What happens when you text that random number graffitied on a bathroom stall in your favorite bar? Jo Wilson is about to find out. - In which Bar Princess and Doctor Evil Spawn meet via text.

Chapter threeee. What do you think? Any predictions?

Sunday 10:28 AM

oh man

you’re pretty funny

Shhh you’re talking too loud.

i’m texting you

Well stop it. You’re being too loud.

okaaaaay i’ll leave you alone

Wait come back… I miss you.

ahhh the truth comes out

you do like me

Of course I do, I wouldn’t be texting you if I didn’t.

well that’s good to know

i’m assuming your head is pounding?

Very much so. I'm about to chug a gallon of orange juice and pray I don’t die.

can you sing while you do it?

I don’t sing.

but you serenaded me last night

it was an amazing song called “bar princess”

Oh shit. Really?

yes and then you told me that you couldn’t sing to me because jo would be mad

In my defense it was my buddies bachelor party.

that excuse didn’t stop you from calling me bar princess

I think i’m gonna name you… doctor rockstar

Somehow that’s actually worse than Doctor Evil Spawn

it'll grow on you

hey go check your porch

You didn’t.

oh but I did

Breakfast and coffee? You’re the best. Thank you.

it’s my thank you for the donuts yesterday

and for keeping me sane almost everyday

It’s nothing, I enjoy our friendship just as much as you do.

Sunday 3:33 PM

What’s with all these sirens in the area? You think someone died?

oh…. that might’ve been me…

WHAT?!

Are you okay?

Jo???

Sunday 3:45 PM

Incoming Voice Call

“Hey it’s Jo! I can’t come to the phone right now but leave me a message and I’ll call ya back!”

Sunday 3:47 PM

i’m fine gimme a second

You’re freaking me out.

Sunday 4:17 PM

Incoming Voice Call

“Jo?”

“I’m fine, I‘m fine.”

“What the hell happened?”

“I tried to make lunch and I set something on fire. It’s fine, I just couldn’t contain it.”

“You want me to come help out? I can be there in five minutes.”

“Alex, I’m fine. And I told you, I don’t wanna see you until our date.”

“Oh screw all that. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes! Now stop worrying about me, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Okay I’ll take your word for it, Bar Princess.”

“Good. Now stop freaking out, I can hear you hyperventilating over there.”

“I told you, I don’t want our first meeting to be at your funeral. I’m protecting myself obviously.”

“Right okay. Well I have to go and talk Steph down from killing me. I’ll talk to you soon. And Alex?”

“Yes Jo?”

“Thanks… just for caring about me. I’ve never had anyone who would be that concerned about me setting the fire alarm off. It means a lot. More than you know.”

“Well I like you, a lot. And you mean a lot to me. More than you know. Hey, when are you free next week?”

“I get back on Sunday night so anytime after that.”

“I’m off Wednesday, does that work for you?”

“Absolutely. It’s a date?”

“It is definitely a date. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”

“Bye!”

Monday 9:36 AM

so steph killed me

almost

Monday 10:06 AM

You’re texting me so I’m assuming that’s a good sign.

yeah I started crying and she let me off the hook

You started crying??

well fake crying but yeah

it did the job

You’re full of surprises aren’t you?

only always

I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised when we meet

I hope so. Gotta go yell at interns, catch ya on the flip side.

the 90s called they want their catchphrase back

Monday 4:21 PM

pretty sure our AC is broken

i’m sweating like a pig

Oof, not fun. Did you call it in?

yup but they can’t get out till next weekend

i’m in shorts and a tank top I don’t think I can strip more without izzie yelling at me

I wouldn’t complain if you wanted to come and strip for me.

that was very forward doctor rockstar

at least take me out to dinner first

I’m trying to. Surgeons are busy people.

it’s okay it’ll be well worth the wait

and i’m holding you to what you said

I say a lot of things to you, you’ll have to be more specific.

when you said you’d kiss me as soon as we met

i’ll be waiting for that

I’ll make sure to put chapstick on in the car then.

you should do stand up comedy

Once you get to know me you’ll understand how terrible of an idea that is.

oh shoot

bridezilla just stormed in crying

OH MY GOD SHE GOT A FAKE TAN SHE LOOKS LIKE AN ORANGE

have to run damage control we’ll talk later

Lemon juice and a loofah. At least that’s what Meredith is telling me. Good luck.

Tuesday 10:28 AM

can you kiss meredith for me

she saved my ass yesterday

That would be kind of awkward seeing as she’s married. But I’ll pass on your thanks.

there were so many tears

it was horrendous

izzie and I stayed up until 2 am washing that stuff off

Jesus Christ. I’m sure you’ll be relieved once this wedding is over and done with.

four more days!!

i’m excited of course but like… I want this done with

I can’t take much more bridezilla madness

Neither can I.

you’re not even dealing with it!!

Yeah but I have to hear you dealing with it and it just doesn’t sound fun. I pity you.

you’re so sweet

Doctor Feel Good

That sounds borderline inappropriate.

it was 100% inappropriate

see i’ve flipped the tables

now i’m trying to seduce you

I applaud your efforts. Giving me a sexy nickname definitely helped your chances.

really??

You asked me to kiss you as soon as we met, I assumed that you would also be putting out on the first date.

W O W

you’re not wrong

BUT WOW

Knew it. I’d love to continue talking about what you’re going to do to me after our first date, but I have a high volume trauma coming in. Probably won’t be around for a few hours.

good luck, keep your wits about you

don’t be a hero, we still have a standing date

Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Tuesday 11:38 PM

Incoming Voice Call

“Alex?”

“Hey. I hope I didn’t wake you up.” “No… No, I wasn’t sleeping, I was watching a movie. Are you okay?” “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.” “You don’t sound fine.” “It’s just been a long day… a lot happened.” “Do you wanna talk about it?” “No I… there was a pileup, on the freeway. It was really bad. And there… there was a van full of kids. It’s just been a long day.” “I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how hard it is going through that. What can I do to help?” “Can you… can you just talk to me?” “Of course I can. Oh! I’ll tell you Izzie’s muffin story! That’s a good one.”

“Okay yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” “So Izzie and her boyfriend had gone through a BAD breakup, I mean monumental. She was so upset and she just started baking…”

Wednesday 9:59 AM

Incoming Voice Call

“Jesus Christ what time is it?” “It’s 10 AM.” “Alex! I didn’t check the caller ID. Are you okay?” “I’m fine. I’m fine… I’m sorry I woke you up.” “No! It’s okay, you know I love to hear your voice.” “Well that’s a relief, I was worried you were gonna drop me because I keep waking you up.” “You only woke me up once!” “Listen Bar Princess, you may think you’re a good liar but you aren’t. I know I woke you up last night when I called.” “No I-”

“No buts. Thank you for that, I really appreciated it. It’s… it’s hard being in my line of work somedays.” “Well, you’ll always have me to lean on.” “I just need you to know…” “Know what? Oh my god you’re not married are you?” “What? No! Jo… just listen. Can you do that?” “Yes, I can.” “Somedays this job drags me down. It wears me down to my core and it doesn’t make it easier when I’ve got babies and kids on the table. It’s hard and I hate to admit it but I fall apart. I fall apart and I’m messy and I get all dark and twisty sometimes.” “Dark and twisty?” “Meredith says that. But it’s true. I get dark and twisty sometimes and you… last night you pulled me out of that dark and twisty place and I just…” “Just what? You can tell me, Alex.” “I don’t want to rely on you if pulling me out of the dark and twisty place is too much for you to handle. I want… I know I sound crazy and you’re probably freaking out-”

“I’m not freaking out.” “But I want this. You and me and I don’t want to get comfortable if you’re not in. Because I’m in, I’m in Jo. It’s ridiculous and I don’t even know what you look like but I’m in.”

“I’m in. I’m so in, I’m all in and if that makes us crazy then… Then I wanna be crazy with you.”

“Kissing you sounds really good right now.” “Listen, just because I said I’m in this for the long haul doesn’t mean you get to see me before our first date. If anything, this makes things more romantic.” “Okay okay, I’ll listen to you. You better be prepared because this first kiss, it’s gonna be the most epic kiss you’ll ever get.” “I’m waiting in eager anticipation, Doctor Feelgood.”

“It’s feels wrong to like it when you call me that.”

“You’re a real charmer. I would love to keep up the sexy talk, but Bridezilla is here and I’m pretty sure she’s going to rip my head off. Talk later?”

“Don’t we always. Thanks… for hearing me out. And being there. And being you. I can’t wait to kiss you.”

“I can’t wait to kiss you eit-“

“JO GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE BEFORE I DRAG YOU DOWN THE STAIRS.”

“Have fun, call me if you need an alibi.”

Wednesday 1:18 PM

had to hide in the bathroom

the living room is covered in glitter

Aren’t you used to that? Being a teacher and all?

ohhhhhh no

i have banned the use of glitter in my house and classroom

i’m not a monster

Oh glad to know you have your wits about you.

of course i do

my only slipup ever has been the time i drunk texted that phone number that was graffitied in a bar bathroom

oh wait

Hahaha very funny. By the way, I thanked Cristina profusely and even bought her a coffee.

what are we thanking cristina for? For putting my phone number up in the bathroom. I might need you to go and scratch it out though. I don’t need any other drunk teachers at bachelorette parties texting me, I’ve met my quota.

well that was oddly touching

you’re a big softy aren’t you doctor evil spawn

I’m a pediatric surgeon, I think that tells you everything you need to know.

you’re making some very good points here

oh shit she found me

i’ll be back (hopefully)

I have a bone to pick with bridezilla. She keeps taking my texting buddy away.

Wednesday 6:06 PM

good god i’m gonna die before we get to this wedding

i just had to pack chocolate almonds into tiny little bags and tie them with bows

WHO HAS CHOCOLATE ALMONDS ANYMORE IT’S NOT 1985

You seem to have a lot of strong feelings about almonds.

i can't feel my fingers

If you can’t feel your fingers how are you texting me? i’m making siri do it for me while i lay on the floor drinking wine

I’m so proud of you. I’m on NICU overnight duty, so I have to stay awake and I’m bored.

shouldn’t you be like… taking care of the babies? Oh these kids are fighters. I just gotta make sure they don’t rip off their tubes.

well it seems like you have an easy night

Until I die of boredom or hunger. Whichever one happens first.

i’m pretty sure you’re the doctor here so you know that won’t happen

Wow, you really pulled the doctor card on me huh? of course i did, it’s like you don’t even know me

You’re right I should’ve expected that. Gotta do rounds, I’ll text you in a bit.

Wednesday 8:28 PM

I’m pretty sure it was my turn to bring you food, not the other way around.

i sent the egg rolls and chow mein!

apparently you’re a regular because the guy at the restaurant suggested everything else and offered to deliver it to you

Thank you, you did kind of save my night. This chicken chow mein is amazing.

it’s my favorite

just like you :) Now who’s the softy? i’m a fourth grade teacher, i think that tells you everything you need to know

Touche. Okay now I really have to go be a doctor. Thank you again for dinner, one more week until we get to see each other.

the happy dance i just did was embarrassing, that’s how excited i am

Thursday 10:28 AM

if I never have to participate in another wedding it’ll be too soon

i’m so exhausted I wish I was in a room filled with fourth graders instead of here

Don’t you wanna get married someday?

if I ever get married i’m going to the courthouse and getting pizza after

that’s my dream wedding

At least you don’t wanna spend 10k on a couple hours of celebrating. Pizza is as good a celebration as any in my book.

exactly you get it

pizza and beer trumps uncomfy dress and socializing with people any day

What’s bridezilla got you doing today?

making table numbers and centerpieces today

then we drive up tomorrow night

then I get shit faced at the open bar

At least you know what your agenda is.

that’s always my wedding agenda

hopefully I won’t puke on my shoes this time

That would be a funny wedding story though, good for small talk.

you’re right maybe I should peueowownspdjd

Did you have a stroke?

Jo???

Jo’s phone has been confiscated so she can focus all of her attention on helping with wedding preparations. She’ll get it back later today. Sincerely, Bridezilla

Thursday 4:17 PM

Incoming Phone Call

“I have to call my mom, I’ll be right back!”

“Jo that excuse doesn’t work, we all know you don’t have a mom!”

“So now you’re lying to talk to me?”

“Hey you saw what Bridezilla did earlier! I had to run out the door while she went pee so she wouldn’t catch me.”

“You’re willing to risk death for me? You really do care.”

“I love her but she’s suffocating me and all I want is to get drunk and possibly make out with you.”

“Mmm should I come by and rescue you?”

“No! No, I really wanna make out with you but I wanna wait. Just six more days.”

“Six days. I promise there will be beer and pizza and lots of kissing.”

“Good. That’s the only thing getting me through this weekend. I gotta go back, but I’ll text you as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be relentlessly staring at my phone until my friends make fun of me or you text, whatever happens first. Bye Jo.”

“Bye Alex.”

Thursday 8:33 PM

good god I finally got her to leave

only because I reminded her we have a bunch of shit to do tomorrow

I need a drink

Take a shot of Fireball for me. I’m on my final overnight shift before my weekend vacation.

done, one for me and one for you

Jesus woman you’re unstoppable.

well I do try to be a borderline alcoholic in my day to day life

(that was sarcasm)

You’re hilarious. And my favorite person to talk to.

right back at ya doctor feel good

I gotta sleep, i’m tired as hell and were leaving early tomorrow

Sleep well, I’ll talk to you tomorrow Bar Princess.

goodniiiiiiight

Friday 9:47 AM

Incoming Phone Call

“Mmm hello?”

“Hi it’s me, I’m sorry it’s so early, I know you probably haven’t slept much.”

“S’okay, you know I like hearing your voice.”

“I just wanted to say bye. I mean not forever, but the wedding is gonna keep me busy all weekend and I don’t even know if we’ll have service. So this’ll be the longest we’ve gone without talking.”

“You’re rambling, Jo.”

“I know, I know. I just… I’m gonna miss talking to you at all hours of the day. Especially when You Know Who gets all psycho.”

“Mmm well I’ll see you on Wednesday right? That’s…”

“Five days.”

“Exactly. Five days away. Not that long.”

“I know.”

“You already said that. Are you attached to my lingering presence?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I gotta go, Steph is about to leave without me. But you should check your doorstep.”

“Damn it Jo, it’s my turn not yours. Thank you anyways though, I always love that you think of me.”

“Only all the time. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye Alex.”

“Goodbye Jo.”

#jolex jolex fanfic jolex fanfiction jo karev jo wilson jo wilson karev alex karev alternate universe jolex fic jo x alex greys anatomy greys #jolex #jolex fanfic #jolex fanficiton #jo karev #jo wilson #jo wilson karev #alex karev #alternate universe #jolex fic #jo x alex #greys anatomy #greys antaomy fanfic #INFJTT

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saventhhaven · 6 years ago

Text

Fright Night - Part 3

Pairing: none

Tags: werewolf!reader, angst, Halloween, mystery

Word Count: 4,514

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! This is the final part of Fright Night! I hope you enjoyed it!

(Gif not mine)

Agent Elliot, or whatever his real name was, finished tightening the knots on the ropes that held you in place. You shook your head, trying to blink away tears.

"'FBI.' I can't believe I fell for that." Agent Elliot stood, going back over to Agent Russel, who was watching you as if you were a ticking time bomb, ready to explode. "Why the hell would the FBI care about an animal attack?"

"You think those ropes will hold her?" Agent Elliot asked, ignoring you.

"They'd better. It's not like we just have chains laying around in the trunk." Chains? What, the ropes weren't enough? You tugged at the restraints, testing the strength of them, but it was no use. They had you tied to one of your dining room chairs, your wrists bound to the chair's arms, and your ankles to the legs. Things weren't looking good for you, and you were scared. You pulled again at the ropes, harder this time, and let out a yelp as pain blossomed in your shoulder. At this point, blood had soaked through the front of your gray t-shirt. At your cry of pain, the two men turned their attention back to you. Setting your jaw resolutely, you forced yourself to sit up straighter. Panic was beginning to set in, but they didn't need to know that. Agent Russel crouched down in front of you, and you leaned against the back of the chair, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as physically possible. His entire demeanor had shifted since yesterday. Hell, even since ten minutes ago when the men had gotten to your house.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned in a threatening tone. He pulled up the hem of his flannel shirt, revealing a gun tucked into the waist of his jeans. A choked sob tore from your throat, and you hung your head, tears dripping onto your lap. Agent Russel stood again. "It'll be easier for everyone if you just cooperate." You looked up at the man.

"Please," you whispered, "just let me go." He chuckled, though you could tell there was no real humor in it.

"See, that ain't happening. You slaughtered an innocent kid, and that's not gonna fly."

"The girl in my back yard?" you quavered incredulously. "I found her body; I didn't kill her!" You were starting to get hysterical now. None of this made any sense. You turned to Agent Elliot, hoping you could somehow appeal to him. "Please," you repeated. Much to your surprise, his eyebrows knitted together, and he took a step closer.

"Dean, go easy." Dean. That must've been "Agent Russel's" real name.

"'Go easy?'" Dean echoed with disbelief. "She's a monster, Sam! She killed someone! And I'd put money down that she did it again!"

"What are you talking about?" you demanded shrilly. "Dean rounded on you again, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Okay, you can cut the innocent act right now, because whatever you're sellin', we ain't buying. We saw you last night, all right? So, if you stop pretending, this will all be over a whole lot sooner." You shook your head frantically and balled your hands into fists. This had to be some sort of misunderstanding. It was like you were hearing two radically different sides of the same story.

"I was here last night! Asleep! You know, sleep? Like normal people do?" Dean closed what was left of the distance between you in a single stride. He gripped the arms of the dining room chair, getting in your face.

"Then where did all those bruises come from, huh? How 'bout that nasty bullet wound?"

"I don't know!" Your words echoed around your living room, and for a moment, everything else went quiet. Letting out a heavy sigh, you averted your gaze. "That's why I called you two. I can see now that was a mistake." Dean let out a frustrated huff and shoved himself backward with a shake of his head. The man named Sam held out an arm to stop him from going too far.

"What if she doesn't know?" Dean stared at him in silence for a moment before he finally responded.

"You're serious?"

"Don't know what?" you chimed in.

"Remember Madison?" Sam continued, ignoring your question. "She didn't know she was a werewolf either." If the ropes hadn't been holding you in place, you might've fallen out of your chair right then.

"A werewolf?" When the two men had tied you up, you had a hunch that they weren't quite all there, but this was next-level stuff. "You think... you think I'm a werewolf? Oh, my God." You slumped back into the chair. "You're insane. You're actually insane." Dean glared at you before tilting his head in the other direction, signifying to the other man that they should move further away, where you couldn't hear every detail of their conversation.

"Think about it," Sam said lowly. "Why would she call us if she knew we were the ones that shot her?" Dean shook his head as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. You couldn't believe your ears.

"Wait. You two did this to me? The bruises? The bullet wound? It was all you?" You felt sick.

"Well, technically, the bruises were all you, princess," Dean clarified as he sauntered back over to you. "You're gonna be a little banged up when you run in front of a car." You let out a noise that was somewhere between nervous laughter and hyperventilating.

"Oh, God," you whimpered. "Can one of you please tell me what's going on? The truth." Sam opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Dean.

"You're a werewolf. Claw-growing, full-moon-howling, the whole nine." Sam's face scrunched up in distaste.

"You want to be a little more blunt?" he sassed. When Dean only shrugged, he rolled his eyes. "Y/N," Sam tried again, "my name is Sam Winchester. This is my brother Dean. We're not actually FBI."

"Yeah, I gathered that when you practically tackled me and tied me to a chair." You sniffled. They might have been crazy, but at least you were finally getting some real answers. "All right, so if you're not FBI, then what are you?"

"We're hunters," Dean explained. "All that crap you see in crazy Halloween movies? Ghosts, vampires..." He looked at you pointedly. "Werewolves. It's all real."

"And we're the guys that kill them," Sam finished. For what felt like the hundredth time, you shook your head again. This couldn't be possible. Stuff like this wasn't even supposed to exist. It was all just myths and storylines for horror movies. But still... you couldn't deny the fact that you had no idea how you had gotten so beaten up. You looked over at your wounded shoulder, which was still bleeding. Dean noticed you staring.

"Y/N, even if you were sleepwalking, I think you'd remember getting shot last night," he said, practically reading your mind. You blinked once. Twice.

"Okay. If, and I mean if, I were maybe willing to consider the possibility that what you're telling me is true, I'm gonna need more of an explanation." Sam and Dean both pulled up chairs in front of you and took a seat. Dean gestured for you to continue.

"Shoot." All right. Now was the time to ask for verification for all the things that still didn't make sense. You licked your lips.

"Werewolves are supposed to have, like, crazy supernatural healing abilities, right?" Both boys nodded their confirmation. "Then why do I look like I just tried to take on Rocky drunk with a hand tied behind my back?" Dean chuckled, a real chuckle, at your sass while Sam nodded thoughtfully at your question. "If I were really a werewolf, shouldn't I have healed by now?" Sam bobbed his head at your shoulder.

"All werewolves have a weakness to silver," he answered. "That bullet you've got stuck in your shoulder is silver, so it's slowing down the healing process. One of those to the heart, and..." The boys exchanged a look, and you felt your stomach twist as you came to a realization.

"You were trying to kill me last night," you deduced. Dean leaned forward in his chair.

"We didn't know it was you until we got here this morning." Wow, that almost made you feel better. These men just told you they hunt monsters, and that you were one of the creatures they kill. Which led you to your next question.

"Are you still trying to kill me?" Sam and Dean fell silent, which you were sure wasn't a good sign. You sighed. "What you're asking me to believe goes against pretty much everything I know about reality."

"We know," Sam agreed. "It definitely takes some getting used to."

"It's crazy," you reiterated. "...but it's the only thing I can think of that makes sense. Even if it doesn't make much sense." The boys looked relieved. "So, what do we do now?"

"There's a cure," Dean informed you.

"But," Sam interrupted before you could allow sweet relief to sink in. "It's complicated. And risky. It only works one out of ten times."

"And the other nine?" Neither of the men would meet your eyes.

"They die." You swallowed hard, still trying to wrap your head around everything you had just learned. Two days ago, everything had been normal. But now? Well, this was just about as far from normal as you could get. If what the Winchesters were telling you was true - if you really were a werewolf - you couldn't live like this. Being afraid of yourself every time there was a full moon was no way to live out the rest of your life, and you wouldn't want to. Even if there was a 90% chance that you would die, it was a chance you had to take.

"How does this cure work?"

"We need live blood from the werewolf that bit you."

"And I don't suppose you know who that is?" you asked hopefully. When the boys shook their heads in unison, you couldn't say that you were too disappointed.

"Sorry, Y/N," Sam said. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. Nothing ever was in your life, as you were coming to realize. "It would be ideal if we could figure it out before moonrise. It's the last night of the full moon." You felt the blood drain from your face. That's right. You hadn't even realized. Though, to be fair, you had no reason to know that before about half an hour ago.

"I need a drink," you breathed. Flexing your fingers under the ropes, you raised your eyebrows at Sam and Dean. "I know this is a long shot, but would you consider untying me?" You were hoping they would say yes, but honestly, you wouldn't blame them if they didn't. The boys looked at each other for a long moment, and you would've sworn that they were communicating telepathically based on all the eyebrow-raising that you were witnessing. Finally, they turned back to you.

"And you're not gonna make a break for it?" Dean asked seriously.

"If I had a free hand, I would cross my heart," you promised. That was all the answer they needed. Mercifully, Dean came over and undid the knots on the ropes one-by-one until you were free. You had to say it was tempting. The thought of running that is. You could bolt out the front door, get into your car, and never come back to this place. The Winchesters would be nothing more than a memory, and you could find a way to make the whole werewolf thing work. But that wasn't who you were. If it was all true, and you really had killed that poor girl, that meant you were capable of killing again. And you weren't willing to put the lives of innocent people on the line just to be selfish. So, instead of "making a break for it," as Dean would say, you stood, went into the kitchen, and poured yourself a large glass of whiskey.

Sam checked his watch anxiously as Dean pulled supplies for the cure from the trunk.

"You think this is gonna work?" he asked his brother. Dean shrugged with a small sigh as he threw a glance back at the house.

"I don't know. It worked for Claire, but I don't know how much that says for Y/N." The boys desperately wanted to be able to help the woman they were getting to know, but the truth was, they didn't know if they could. There was no way of telling how long ago she had been bitten, or who bit her for that matter. Too many variables were unknown.

"At least she hasn't fed," Sam pointed out, always trying to look on the bright side.

"Hasn't she, though?" The sound of the Impala's trunk shutting echoed down the street. "What if she was on her way home from a big feast last night? She could've killed again, and fed before we rain into her. And the cure doesn't work if she's fed, you know that."

"I don't think so," Sam disagreed. "The first girl she killed still had the heart, remember?" Dean put the syringe in his pocket as he glanced around to make sure no one was watching.

"Right, and let's talk about that, by the way, because that's one thing I still don't get. Why leave the heart?" he asked. "Seriously, I mean, you said it yourself. Why rip some girl to shreds and then leave the main course?" Sam shrugged. The truth was, he didn't know. There was a good chance that Y/N had fed, and if that was the case, there was nothing the boys could do. But Madison held a special place in Sam's heart, and Y/N reminded him of her. Even if there was the tiniest chance that she could be cured, Sam was willing to risk it all.

"Maybe..." he began, thinking hard. "Maybe it's primal instinct. What if she just kills in the heat of the moment, and then when the moment's over, she stops?" Dean raised an eyebrow skeptically but didn't interrupt. "Werewolves are territorial. Y/N found that girl in her back yard, right? Maybe she gets defensive, loses control..." Sam trailed off as his brother frowned.

"So, what, she goes all I Was A Teenage Werewolf, and then the human part of her realizes what she did and backs off?"

"Yeah." Dean sighed, passing a hand over his mouth. "I know it's a long shot."

"Yeah, no shit," the older Winchester snorted. What Sam was suggesting went against everything their dad had taught them about werewolves. Werewolves lose control under a full moon, kill, and then eat their victim's heart. That's what they had learned. But then, Sam always had been the one to question their dad's teachings.

"Dean." When Dean met his younger brother's eyes, he was surprised by the amount of emotion they held. "I know it seems like I'm grasping at straws here," he acknowledged. "But if there's a chance that we can save this girl's life, I want to try." Dean nodded as he mulled it over.

"I do, too," he finally admitted. With a heavy breath, he clapped his brother on the shoulder. "All right. Let's do it."

You paced anxiously as you racked your brain for the millionth time, trying to think of something - anything - that would tell you who bit you. The problem was, you had no recollection of ever being in a position where anyone would even be able to bite you. When you looked outside at the sky, you had to force yourself to remember to breathe. You and the Winchesters had spent hours trying to scrape together any hint of a lead, but with no luck. You were running out of time.

"How long do we have until the moon rises?" you asked quietly. Sam glanced down at his watch.

"About ten minutes." Practically collapsing onto your couch, you buried your face in your hands as you forced back tears. One of the cushions sank down next to you, and a comforting hand rubbed circles on your back.

"You're gonna be all right," Dean reassured you. It was sweet of him to say that, but you knew he was probably lying through his teeth. How in the hell was any of this going to turn out "all right?" You shook your head and stood again, resuming your nervous pacing.

"Y/N, Dean and I are going to stay right here with you until we figure this out. No matter how long it takes," Sam promised. Dean nodded his agreement.

"That's right." This felt like the end of the world. You knew Sam and Dean weren't going to shoot you unless they had to, but... when it came down to it, they might have to. You sat down on your dining room chair, which was still sitting in the center of the room.

"Tie me up," you ordered. When both boys only looked at you in surprise, you clenched your jaw frustratedly. "Please just do it. It'll make me feel a lot better." As the boys complied, you looked out the window again. The sky had grown darker, and the sun was moments away from dipping below the horizon entirely. You had to bite back tears again. This was by far the most terrifying moment of your life.

"Sam, time check?" You could tell the boys were starting to feel just as anxious as you were.

"Seven minutes." Great. Seven minutes until you transformed into a homicidal monster.

"Does it happen right away?" you asked. Dean, who was crouched in front of you, tying your ankles, patted your knee.

"It's different for everyone," he explained. "Some people turn right away, but for others, it can take some time." Your bottom lip trembled as you let out a shaky breath. There were so many thoughts going through your head. Should you have called your family earlier? Was turning going to be painful? You looked around your house, trying to take it all in for what you were terrified was going to be the last time. As you looked around, your gaze landed on the bowl of soup that Chloe had brought you yesterday, long forgotten on the kitchen counter. ...Chloe. Wait. Something tugged in the back of your brain, and you focused hard. Small flashes of a memory you didn't know you had popped up in your thoughts, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

"Oh, my God." Dean froze mid-knot, and both boys looked at you in alarm. You remembered how your motion-sensor light had been turning on and off by itself a few nights ago, and how you had gone outside in the darkness to check it out.

"What?" Sam asked, coming over to crouch next to his brother. You remembered how a creature from a nightmare had attacked you and knocked you to the ground when you tried to run. "Y/N, what is it?" You remembered the creature sinking its fangs into the back of your shoulder. And you remembered that you saw its face. Forcing yourself back into the moment, you locked eyes with the boys, unable to believe what your memory was telling you.

"It's Chloe," you said shakily. "My neighbor Chloe, she's the one that bit me!"

"And you're sure?" Sam asked. You nodded.

"I'm positive." Sam turned his attention to his brother.

"You stay here with her," he instructed. "I've got this one." Dean nodded and handed him a syringe from his pocket.

"Be careful." You wanted to be relieved, but you knew you still weren't out of the woods just yet. There was no telling if Sam would get back with the cure in time, but even if he did, you were still looking at a 10% survival rate. Not the most encouraging chances. You glanced at Dean, who was lost in thought.

"Dean?" He snapped out of his reverie, fixing you with a kind smile.

"You hangin' in okay, princess?" You could say yes, but that would be a lie, and he wouldn't believe you anyway.

"No," you replied. "I'm scared." Dean rubbed your arm.

"I'd be worried if you weren't," he said honestly. The two of you sat in the heavy silence for a while longer before you spoke again.

"How long do I have?" The man in front of you rolled up his sleeve to check his watch, letting out a heavy breath as he did so.

"Two minutes." This was it. Two minutes until the moon began its ascent. You couldn't hold back your tears this time as they started to well up again.

"Dean," you choked out. "If I try to hurt you, I want you to kill me. I don't know if Sam's going to make it back in time, and-"

"Hey, none of that," he cut you off. "You're gonna be fine." You laughed.

"You know as well as I do that I probably won't live to see the sunrise tomorrow morning. And that scares the hell out of me," you confessed with a sniffle. "It does. But if there's any chance that I could hurt you, or Sam, or anyone else, I need you to end it." Dean got quiet, unable to meet your eyes. "Dean, please," you begged. "This might be the last chance I get to do something good for the rest of the world." Before Dean could reply, his watch beeped.

"Moon's on the rise," he informed you. You already knew. You could feel it.

For the first ten minutes after the moon started to rise, Dean could tell that Y/N was starting to feel its pull. She was significantly more fidgety - as if she was uncomfortable in her own skin.

"It's happening," Y/N called out with a sharp intake of breath. With those two words, Dean was back at her side in an instant, unsure if there was really anything he could do to help her. She pulled against the ropes as she began to write in pain, her breathing coming faster now.

"Come on, Y/N, you can fight this," Dean coached, although he knew she probably couldn't. "Just listen to the sound of my voice, and-" Y/N threw her head back with a pained scream. "Y/N. Y/N!" Her body trembled as her breathing continued to pick up. But then, she slouched forward, and it all stopped. Dean took a cautious step back. "Y/N?" Y/N's head snapped up, but it wasn't the young woman he recognized. Baring her fangs at him, she let out an angry roar. "Son of a bitch."

With a single, effortless pull, Y/N stood from the dining room chair, and the ropes that held her in place snapped. With another guttural growl, she launched herself at Dean, who was able to narrowly avoid her. The silver bullet still in Y/N's shoulder definitely slowed her down, but not by very much. As she charged Dean again, he took advantage of her momentum, slamming her hard into the wall behind him. She fell to the ground with a hard thud, looking dazed. "Sorry, Y/N." When her eyes locked in on Dean again, he reached for his phone to tell Sam to hurry up, but he wasn't quick enough. Y/N tackled him to the floor, and the phone skittered just out of his reach, effectively foiling any plan of calling Sam. As she pinned him to the floor, Dean remembered what she said: If I try to hurt you, I want you to kill me. Dean's gun was easily within his grasp. He could pump a round of silver into her, and this would all be over with. But he couldn't. "Y/N," he said, though he knew she couldn't hear him. "I don't want to hurt you!" She loomed over Dean, her fangs grew dangerously close to his skin as he tried to push her off. Suddenly, though, Y/N let out a yelp of pain, and Dean was able to get away, where he saw the unmistakable syringe sticking out of her back. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding as he looked over at his younger brother.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean answered. "Good timing."

The next morning, you were already feeling immediately better, aside from the bullet wound that Sam had just finished stitching up. Dean was still in the living room, cleaning up from last night.

"So," you said as you helped Sam pack up the trunk. "From what Dean tells me, you saved his ass last night." Sam chuckled good-naturedly in response.

"Yeah, I guess I did." You gave his arm a fond pat. When you looked over at Chloe's house, you couldn't help but sigh.

"What about Chloe?" you asked. Sam gave a grave nod.

"Dean and I took care of it last night after we made you get some sleep. When the FBI - the real FBI - comes asking, just tell them you saw her the day before yesterday, but not since. After they figure out there's nothing for them to find, they should leave you alone." A cool breeze passed over the two of you, making you draw your jacket in closer around yourself. You couldn't even begin to say how relieved you were that you were still alive.

"How you feelin', Y/N?" Dean asked as he brought another armload of stuff to the trunk. Giving him a cheeky grin in response, you shrugged.

"I'm sort of craving an extra rare steak," you admitted. "But other than that, I think I'll live, thanks to you two."

"I'm just glad the cure worked," Sam said. You nodded your agreement.

"Me, too. You guys headed out now, or do you want to stay for some coffee or something?" Dean shook his head.

"Nah, we've gotta hit the road." You knew you couldn't expect them to stay, what with having to save the world and all, but you had grown a bit attached to the two men over the past twenty-four hours. Before they could object (not that you thought they would), you wrapped an arm around each of them, squeezing tightly.

"Thank you both so much," you whispered. As they were getting into the car, Dean handed you a card with a phone number on it.

"I know it says Agent Russel," he said, "but it's still my number. You ever need anything, just call." You gave a lazy salute, shooting Sam a wink as he smiled at you from the passenger window.

"You got it, agents." And then the boys were gone, leaving you to your thoughts as you went back into the house. Maybe now you could finally enjoy what was left of your vacation. The past few days had been crazy, but you had to say - being a werewolf for Halloween had been interesting to say in the least.

Thank you all so much for reading! Happy (late) Halloween!

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#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #multi-chapter fanfiction #fright night mini-series #fright night part 3 #sam winchester #dean winchester #reader #original female character #female reader #werewolf!reader #werewolf cure #angst #mystery #happy ending

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thisgirlsays22 · 7 years ago

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Chapters: 13/? Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Levi/Eren Yeager, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Eren Yeager Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, canonverse, In Universe AU, Canon Era, Reincarnation, Surfer Eren, Pining, Manga Spoilers, Angst, Slow Burn Summary:

Between Titan and human, unconscious and conscious, Eren finds he can access a future world.

Thank you to my betas @attraversiamo19 & @erensjaegerbombs and to my readers/cheerleaders @dreamxxdream @ageha-sakura.

You can also read below the cut:

Eren sat down next to Levi, shoulder to shoulder on the couch, brimming with excitement.

“What is it?” Levi asked, setting aside his work.

“There’s someone on this forum who says that they also remember the ‘Lost Titan Years’.”

Levi raised an eyebrow. “And you believe this random person?”

“I don’t know. Maybe!” Eren nudged Levi. “You and Mikasa had the nightmares. Hanji freaked when she started learning about the Titans. It’s possible there are more people like us out there.”

“But they could also just be full of shit,” he pointed out, nudging Eren back.

“Well, yeah, I guess. They could have gotten most of this information from the right history books, but still. It’s a lead. At least now I had more to search for than ‘Titans’.”

“True.”

“The last message they posted was from about a year ago, but hopefully they’ll still see my response.”

He was glad Eren seemed more relaxed, happy even, but this was how it often went. Eren would get caught up in something temporarily exciting and then grow despondent again when the high wore off. It was why for months Levi kept thinking, if I could just help you figure out what you want to do... why he’d seized on the idea of Eren going back to school when he’d expressed an, albeit brief, interest. It had only seemed to frustrate Eren more in the end, though, so Levi had been left unsure how to help him.

Levi had the same inclination to let their earlier conversation go--which he knew he had to stop doing from many discussions with his therapist. Whatever the other Levi and Eren had stirred up, they needed to address it at some point. He just didn’t quite know what he wanted to say.

“How did things go with Farlan?” Eren asked. Levi was actually a little surprised he’d remembered to check in given how focussed he was on writing his next forum post.

“They were fine. He didn’t seem convinced things were alright, but I wasn’t about to tell him what's going on.” What a fucking awkward conversation that would be. By the way, you’re dead in that other world. Good to see you alive, man.

“Oh. Are you mad I told Armin?” Eren’s mouth tugged down into a worried frown.

Levi shook his head and put his arm around Eren. “No. That was your call to make, and I’m glad you have someone else to talk to. Why did you tell him, though?”

“It’s going to sound strange.”

“Try me,” Levi said.

“When I saw Armin the other Eren’s memories it reminded me of how things used to be between us. I remembered how supportive he can be.” Eren sighed. “It was impulsive, but I just felt like maybe it could bring us closer together again. And maybe I can put that big brain of his to good use.”

“That doesn’t sound strange at all.”

Eren gave him a small smile, then said, “I’m glad you talked to Mikasa yesterday.”

“Me too.”

“I wish,” Eren started haltingly. “I wish that you’d had each other growing up.”

“Then we wouldn’t have had you,” Levi pointed out.

“I wish that you’d had each other growing up...and still somehow had me too.”

Levi gave a short laugh. “Yes, well. That very specific wish is sweet but pointless. We would have just been two kids with awful nightmares.”

“When you put it that way, I guess it wouldn’t have made much of a difference.” Eren didn’t look reassured, though.

“Any idea how long we’ve got until we’re body-snatched again?” Levi asked dryly, changing the subject.

“No idea,” Eren replied.

“We’re both just sitting ducks then.” Levi wondered how they’d been so lucky that the sudden appearance of the other Eren and Levi had never caused them any harm. He certainly hoped it would carry on that way.

Eren nodded. “I’m sure they’ll be back soon. We’ll just be...careful in the meantime.”

“That’s all well and good,” Levi said. “But when does this end?”

“I don’t know, but there has to be some reason they’re coming here. Something we can do that ends this.”

Levi sighed. “We keep looking then.”

“We keep looking,” Eren agreed.

They fell into a rhythm over the next few days. Eren mostly wanting to discuss leads, the latest messages he’d sent to his mysterious new contact, wondering if there was a way they could meet. If he wasn’t updating Levi, it was Mikasa, Armin or Hanji, and eventually Jean--“He’s my husband, ” Mikasa had finally snapped. “I told him everything weeks ago, we’ve just been waiting for you two dopes to give me the all clear.”

Things between Eren and Levi felt good most of the time. They hadn’t exactly left the conversation on a bad note, but there was something unfinished hanging over them, and the fact that Levi wasn’t certain what it was left him off-kilter.

Seeing Eren so intent on helping their counterparts kept Levi from trying to distract him. It had been a long time since he’d seen Eren so enthusiastic, focussed. He could hang back for a little longer, give them both time to separate these two other lives that had invaded their headspace.

At least Eren wanted Levi caught up in his plans too. It pleased him every time Eren gave him another instruction for what to do if the other Eren showed up without Levi. Every time they thought of new things to show their counterparts. Every time they shared an overlapping memory from the other world.

Eren heard back from the person who claimed they remembered the Titans, their previous life. After writing back and forth to one another, Eren agreed to a video chat.

“They’re travelling right now,” Eren said over their morning cups of coffee and tea. “They’ll contact me when they’re back.”

“Shit,” Levi said. “You want me on the call too?”

“Yeah, definitely. They said that was fine. I’m thinking we get the others over too, but just have them off-screen.”

“Why the fuck not? Use the family group chat while you’re at it.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but I feel an obligation to Jean to do that. He’s pissed at me.”

Levi leaned back in his chair, taking a thoughtful sip of tea. “Hm. Tell him that I fixed his bad sink repairs. He can be mad at me instead.”

“Can I? I think that’ll work. Jean can only stay angry at one person at a time.”

Levi waved a hand and said magnanimously, “Sure.”

“I’m going to put another pot on before work. You want more tea? We have to finish working on our notes.”

They had different plans for if the other Eren, Levi or both came at once. For instance, if both came, Armin had suggested they leave post-it notes around the house with instructions for how to contact someone.

In the meantime, all they could do was wait.

It was two weeks until the other Eren returned. He seemed broody, his presence pulling the plug on the near-manic enthusiasm of Levi's own Eren.

“No other Levi this time?” he asked.

Eren’s face clouded. “No.”

Levi could guess the source of the misery, and a pang of guilt shot through him. Could he be blamed for the transgressions of another life? Apparently he could from the way Eren was eying him warily.

“We’ve been keeping notes for you,” Levi offered. “To see if any names or things stand out.” He went to retrieve the notebook from their bedroom. “Unless my Eren’s in there right now and can show you himself.”

“No, I don’t feel him like last time. Maybe because we’re not drunk?”

“Probably.”

Eren looked miserable, and no matter which Eren was in his body, Levi couldn’t bear to see it. Especially knowing he--in any form--was likely the cause of it.

“Would you like to go somewhere?” he asked, recalling the awe the other Levi had experienced at seeing where they lived. “We can bring the notes.”

“Sure, I guess. Where?” At least there was a flicker of interest even though his eyes were still downcast.

Levi ran through a mental list of all the places he could take Eren, and he remembered how intrigued he’d been by the photograph of the ocean, how his own Eren could be soothed by its presence.

“To the beach.”

Eren looked at him blankly. Levi still hadn’t gotten used to explaining what every little thing was. “The ocean is there,” he clarified.

Eren’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Ah, now I’ve got your interest, Levi thought. “It’s not too far away, but I’m going to have to explain what a car is.”

“Uh, okay.” Eren looked nervous but followed Levi outside where he listened with his usual intensity as Levi spoke.

He showed Eren how to buckle his seatbelt, and then they were on their way. Levi was careful not to drive too fast, lest Eren get carsick. If the body you were borrowing was used to riding in cars, but the soul inside wasn’t, did you still get carsick? Levi didn’t particularly want to roll the dice with that one.

He explained what the radio was, and he even played some of the songs that his own Eren liked, an experiment of sorts. And yes, shitty taste in music seemed to translate over lifetimes. “This is weird, but kind of nice,” he said of some early 90s dance music. Levi winced.

As they neared their destination, the salty ocean air drifted through the cracked car windows, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Eren’s brows knit together.

“What’s that smell?”

“The ocean.”

Eren pressed his hands to the glass, craning his neck. “Where?”

“Just over the bend,” Levi told him, and sure enough, the ocean appeared before them, waves breaking in foamy ruffles against the shore. The sea was calm and languid tonight.

Levi pulled the car over at the lookout point. Eren had once driven them here late at night, climbed into Levi’s lap and made out with him until some drunk teenagers showed up, tapping on the car window and making kissing faces at them.

The last of the light clung to the sky, the tide just coming in and covering the sand in blankets of waves. Eren got out of the car and walked over to the ledge. His hands clutched the metal rail as he looked down at the sea in quiet awe.

“I wasn’t ready to come back to your world,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “But I knew I had to. So one day back home we could see something like this.” Eren turned to face Levi, tears on his cheeks.

Levi ushered him over to the car where he’d left the trunk open. He’d owned his ugly, boxy car for over a decade, and he and his Eren had sat at the edge of the trunk under the stars countless times over the years.

“Take a seat,” Levi said, patting the space next to him.

Cautiously, Eren did as he was told. Levi noticed that he even wiped his tears the same way as his Eren, with the back of his hand. Angry, frustrated, defiant.

“Why didn’t you want to come back here?” Levi asked.

Without hesitating, Eren replied, “I wasn’t ready to see you again.” The ocean breeze blew his hair softly into his eyes, and Levi stopped himself from reaching over to brush it away.

“So you talked to him then?”

Eren gave a short, miserable nod.

“I saw what happened between you,” Levi said. “After you’d been rescued from that...cave.” That strange memory kept coming into his head--Eren shirtless, in chains. The violence of it all gave him chills. It came to him now in nightmares too.

“He must have thought I was so pathetic that night,” Eren said bitterly. He spoke towards the sea, refusing to look at Levi.

Eren was wrong. The other Levi had sensed a kindred spirit in Eren, someone he could whisper secrets to in the quiet of the night.

“No. He understood.”

“Maybe.” Eren shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve spent so much time trying not to think about that night. I couldn’t figure out why he’d let me stay. Pity maybe.”

“I can tell you with certainty that whatever kindness he showed you was never out of pity.”

Eren scowled. “How could you possibly know that? It’s different between you and your Eren. He shared a similar memory with me, but the way it turned out...It’s not the same.”

“In some ways you’re right. But I think we have more in common than we realised.” The saltwater breeze blew back towards them again, and Levi breathed it in deeply. “So what happened when Levi returned?”

“He told me that nothing could happen between us.” Eren’s scowl deepened. “But then he hugged me, and it reminded me of what Eren said. That he wouldn’t just do that for anyone and I--I kissed him.”

Levi’s eyes widened. The kid had balls to kiss his superior officer.

Eren continued, “For a second, I thought he was going to let me. It seemed almost like he was going to kiss me back. But he really doesn’t want me...” Eren trailed off with a defeated sigh and gazed out at the sea again.

“I think he spends a lot of time trying not to think about you,” Levi said slowly, and Eren’s head jerked towards him. “I mean, you can understand his position, can’t you?” Those two probably shouldn’t be together. No matter the pull between them.

“Yes. I just wish things were different.”

“Maybe they will be someday. You don’t have to give up forever.”

“What do I do next then?” Eren asked. A challenge in his voice.

“Don’t leave him,” Levi answered. “If what you have is just a short-lived crush or lust, it isn’t worth fighting for anyway.”

Eren’s eyes narrowed, shoulders tense and defensive. “What do you mean?”

“It might not seem fair, but if you run away, he’ll think he made the right choice, that he did you a favor.”

That year without Eren, after he’d turned him down, he’d thought Eren must have been happy. Imagined him off at school making new friends, going to parties, maybe even falling in love. Never considered that Eren’s longing, lonely ache might have matched his own.

And Levi had most certainly felt an identical ache in the other Levi’s heart. He had felt such depths of sorrow and pain, beyond anything in his own comprehension, and even just the sight of Eren in this world had eased it.

“Be a friend to him,” Levi suggested. “The choice is yours of course, but that’s what I recommend. Even if it’s going to hurt sometimes until it gets easier.”

A seagull squawked overhead, a lonely call in the night, briefly crowding out the soothing sound of the waves. Eren stood and walked over to the edge of the lookout point, eyes fixed on the blackening ocean below.

“Is that how it was for you two?” Eren asked.

The answer was complicated. Eren had put so much distance between them, Levi had thought for sure he’d imagined their friendship. That he’d imagined that they were family.

“Yes and no.” Levi tilted his head back to look up at the last pink gasps of sunlight. “I don’t know what Eren’s shown you about his mother.”

“Not much,” Eren said. “Mostly happy memories. But I know she died.”

Levi nodded. He stretched his legs out, toeing at a pebble beneath his feet.

“I met Eren, his mother and Mikasa when he was about sixteen.”

At Eren’s puzzled look Levi added, “Mikasa and I weren’t raised together. I didn’t even know I had a sister until Eren found me and introduced us. For so long, I wished I had a family and then suddenly Eren showed up and changed my life.” Suddenly, Levi had felt he belonged somewhere.

“Mikasa is your sister?” Eren repeated, eyes going wide.

Surprised, Levi said. “Oh, yes. We have the same father. It’s not the same for your Levi?”

Eren shook his head.

“Huh. Interesting.” He filed that information away for later. “Anyway, as I got to know Mikasa, I got to know Carla and Eren too. He wasn’t very subtle about having a crush on me.” Levi rolled his eyes fondly.

Face red, Eren stared intently out at the glittering sea as he listened.

Levi crossed his arms. “One day he kissed me, told me how he felt. I told him no. He was about to start a new phase of his life, and I didn’t want him to miss out on things because he was worrying about me.”

“I don’t understand what you mean by ‘new phase’.” Eren tilted his head in question.

“It’s common here for people to go away to school for their studies. Usually when they’re about eighteen. You meet a lot of new people, study, work, build a kind of life for yourself there,” Levi explained. “I’m a decade older than Eren, and I’d already lived that part of my life. It wasn’t something I could share with him.”

Eren’s expression turned dubious. “No offense, but that doesn’t seem like a very good reason.”

Levi shrugged. Of course you’d think that at Eren’s age. “Maybe.”

“Did you change your mind in the end?”

“Not exactly. His mother got sick and he moved back home. I moved a little closer too, so I could help.” He’d have done anything for any one of them. Carla, Mikasa, Eren. His family.

Sadness washed over Eren’s face. “He showed me some of that. Her dying. It still hurts.”

Levi knew then that Eren was speaking for himself too. Carla’s death in that other life had been violent, horrifying. There was a small comfort knowing in this life she’d been granted peace. He wanted to reach for Eren, both Erens, and hold him.

“I know,” Levi said softly.

“So how did you and Eren...?”

“There was no big conversation about it. You stayed and I stayed, and we just were.” There’d been no choice to make that time.

At first he’d been disappointed that Eren had never gone back to school, but he’d respected the decision and selfishly revelled in the fact that Eren had stayed, that he’d moved into Levi’s home not too long after. More and more of his things appearing in Levi’s spaces, tucked in and around as though there’d been a place for them all along.

A contemplative silence stretched between them. Levi wondered if his Eren was listening, what he was thinking.

“So you think he’d want to be my--” Eren paused, as though trying to remember a long-forgotten word, “friend?” He gave Levi an odd, incredulous look.

“Yes.” There wasn’t a doubt in his mind about that.

“Okay,” Eren said. He stood back again and walked towards the railing to stare out down at the sea. Levi heard him quietly murmur, to himself again, “Okay.”

Levi texted Armin and Mikasa, and they met them back at the house a little while later, Jean too.

“I’m going to pretend you meant to message the family group chat,” Jean said darkly when he and Mikasa arrived.

Levi sighed, but at Mikasa’s glare said, “Sorry.”

Jean waved a hand. “It’s fine. I just want to meet this bizzare-o, Eren.”

“Yes,” Mikasa said stepping inside, “Where is he?”

Levi took them through to the living room, and he and Jean watched as Eren and Mikasa met.

“Hi,” she said, moving towards Eren. She lifted her arms, unsure.

A smile spread across his face and he stepped towards her too. “Hi,” he said, and then they embraced. “I saw you here that one time. Before I understood what was going on.”

“I remember,” Mikasa said. She sounded like she was holding back tears. “God, I was so worried about him. I still am, but at least I don’t think he has a brain tumor or something.”

“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds bad.”

She laughed, one of those shaky pre-cry laughs. “Oh, this is Jean. My Jean.”

Eren peered past her and Jean hesitantly made his way over to them. “Hey,” he said awkwardly. “It’s, uh, good to meet you...other Eren.”

“You too,” Eren said, sounding unsure. He glanced over at Levi as though he held the answers. Levi gave him a smile that he hoped was encouraging.

“Anyway, I’m not waiting for Armin to get here,” Mikasa declared, breaking the awkward silence. “I have questions.”

And they discussed them all. What Mikasa remembered from her dreams, what it was like growing up together in both of their lives. She didn’t shy away from the horror of the other life, and it seemed like Eren appreciated her matter of fact approach.

Jean hung back, only interjecting with a question or two. Once asking, “So you and I aren’t close?”

“Not really,” Eren said. “You’re not always so bad, though,” he added politely.

Jean looked perturbed but fell silent again, letting Mikasa resume her questions.

“We’re not siblings in Eren’s world,” Levi interjected when she asked what it was like for the other Mikasa to have the captain as a brother.

“Really?” she said, startled. “It’s so weird to imagine us not being siblings.”

“You didn’t even know I existed until you were eighteen,” Levi said.

“Fine. It’s hard to imagine knowing you exist and you not being my brother,” Mikasa clarified, rolling her eyes.

Eren’s brows knit together. “It’s harder for me to imagine you being siblings.”

Mikasa turned back to Eren. “And you said Jean and I aren’t together either?”

Eren shook his head, not looking too pleased at the prospect. “Like I said, a lot’s different.”

Levi snorted. “An understatement.”

“Whatever,” Jean said lightly, “I loved Mikasa for years before she fell for my charms. I'm sure it's the same there.”

“Jean,” Mikasa said, “Sorry if I wasn’t ‘charmed’ by my younger brother’s friend gaping at me like a fish whenever I walked in the room.”

“I didn’t do that!”

“You did! I liked you when you grew up and asked me out like a normal person.”

“Aw.” Jean smiled fondly at her. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Eren looked miserable, and Levi gave him a commiserating look.

Once Armin arrived, it all started again from the top.

“What’s Erwin like in your world?” Armin asked after he’d exhausted the lines of questioning about himself.

“He’s a good leader,” Eren said, looking a little perplexed. “Kind too.”

Armin gave a happy sigh, and Levi fought back an eye roll.

“Hey Eren, is your buddy Armin dating your commander?” Jean asked mischievously, picking up on Eren’s confusion.

Scandalised, Eren said, “What? No!”

Mikasa laughed at Armin’s blush and said to him, “I’m sure if you ask Erwin nicely he’ll do a bit of roleplay with you.”

“Stop,” Armin groaned, covering his face.

“You brought this on yourself,” Jean put in.

Eren looked at Levi in abject horror, but Levi just shrugged in reply. At least Eren wasn’t brooding anymore.

Though he kept a watchful eye on Eren, Levi kept his distance and let the others lead the conversation. He hoped he’d been able to give Eren some comfort, some clarity with his earlier advice. On their journey home from the beach, Levi had given Eren the few updates he had and told him to return in a few weeks.

Now all he could offer was distraction until Eren returned home, and seeing the way he smiled as Mikasa and Jean described their wedding, Levi took quiet pride in the fact that his plan seemed to be working.

After everyone had left, Levi and Eren sat together in the living room with a deck of cards between them. It had been a long time since Levi had played cards--he’d needed to go rummaging around one of Eren’s many boxes full of junk in order to find them.

“No, you can’t lay that down,” Levi said. “The number of wildcards can’t outnumber the others.”

“Right, yeah.” Eren sighed, picked the cards back up again and finished his turn with a discard instead.

“You’re picking up on this fast,” Levi said. “You should teach your friends back home how to play.”

“You think so?” Eren asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

Levi drew a card from the pile between them. “Yeah, I do.”

A small smile played on Eren’s lips. “I think that’s a good idea. If I can remember the rules, I mean.”

The day had taken a more peaceful turn, but Levi struggled to relax. A melancholy air hung between them, and if Levi could feel it, then certainly his own Eren must be feeling it ten fold. He was in the belly of the beast, so to speak, stewing in memories and emotions. Now that Levi had experienced it for himself, he suspected Eren’s return would be difficult.

Still he longed for it. He was ready.

#ereri #ereri fanfic #levi x eren #eren x levi #snkartists network #fic: difficult to know #my writing #snk #aot

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imaginetonyandbucky · 8 years ago

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Shut Up and Drive: Part 2

AO3

“Hello, Mr. Stark,” Bucky said in his darkest, most ominous voice when Tony stepped off the elevator. The lights came on, revealing Bucky dressed all in black and lounging on one of Tony’s couches.

“Oh, hey. It’s the mysterious stranger,” Tony said with a grin, heading to the bar. “Want a drink?”

Bucky frowned. “Do you have a pathological lack of the fear instinct? Strange, ominous men show up in your living room and you just offer them a drink?”

“You’d be surprised how often it happens,” Tony said, waggling a bottle of whiskey in Bucky’s direction. Bucky nodded and stood to join Tony at the bar.

“How do you know I’m not here to kill you?”

“If the Winter Soldier wanted me dead, I’m sure I’d be dead already.” Tony slid a tumbler of whiskey across the bar to Bucky before taking a sip out of his glass and letting out a long sigh. He shrugged off his suit jacket and started pulling off his tie as he came around the bar. “Nobody is going to start shooting at us, are they? It’s been a long day and I’d like to relax.”

“Well the good news is that no, no one is going to start shooting at us. The bad news is that I am technically here to kill you.”

That made Tony stop in his tracks on the way to the couch. He turned slowly and studied Bucky as he took another sip of his whiskey. All trace of friendly warmth faded, and the cold, steady look on Tony’s face reminded Bucky that many people had learned the hard way that this was a man with whom you Do Not Fuck. After a long silence, Tony finally said, “So you’re here for what, more money? Am I bidding on my life now?”

“What? No. I’m here to warn you. Someone out there is willing to pay 25 to 30 million dollars to kill you and they want it done in a week, no more than two.”

Tony studied Bucky for a little while longer, perhaps gauging his sincerity, and finally the ice left his eyes. Bucky relaxed as Tony turned and continued to the couch, kicking off his shoes on the way. “Well that kind of money does narrow it down some. Hey, JARVIS, how many people could afford to pay that much to have me killed who might actually want me dead?”

“Fourteen, sir,” a disembodied voice answered.

“Seriously?” Bucky said as he brought his own glass over to join Tony on the couch. “Damn, Tony.”

Tony shrugged. “And how many people who would want to kill Iron Man?”

There was a longer pause. “Forty-two, sir.”

“Jesus!”

“And what happens if we add in the possibility that Mr. Barnes’ client has no intention of actually paying?” Tony took another sip while his AI did the calculations.

“Thirty-seven to kill Tony Stark, 112 to kill Iron Man, sir.”

“Well.” Bucky blinked. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Pepper keeps nagging me to get a bodyguard, but.” Tony shrugged again.

“Well, you’ve got thousands of adoring fans on the internet. You could have an army of bodyguards.”

A slow grin bloomed on Tony’s face and Bucky felt his face get hot. “You’ve been googling me.”

“Professional research,” Bucky said, taking a sip of whiskey to try and regain his dignity. “Looking for weaknesses and vulnerabilities.”

“Yeah, sure. Did you watch the sex tape?”

“No.” Yes. God. Bucky had thought his brain was going to melt out of his ears. He hadn’t been able to keep from fantasizing about being the center of that intense focus and raw sensuality, so different from the hurried anonymous encounters he’d had when his right hand wasn’t enough. He avoided Tony’s eyes and changed the topic. “Hey, if you knew I was James Barnes, why did you ask what my name was? To see if I would lie?”

“Nah, I just wanted to know what you wanted me to shout in bed later,” Tony said with a broad grin. He slouched down and put his feet on the coffee table, resting his head against the back of the sofa. He closed his eyes with a sigh and cradled the tumbler of whiskey to his chest. “Also, you know, to make sure you knew you were James Barnes.”

That’s fair, Bucky reflected. He took another sip of the smoothest whiskey he’d ever tasted in is 90-odd years of existence and wished he could get drunk on it. Then he wondered what it tasted like in Tony’s mouth and bit his lip against the temptation to lean over and find out. Coming here had been a bad idea, he thought, taking a swallow of whiskey big enough to burn on the way down.

Suddenly Bucky felt an elbow hit his side. “Hey,” Tony said in a voice that sounded like he’d been trying to get Bucky’s attention for a while. “Ground control to Barnes. I said, thank you for the warning. What’s your plan now?”

Yeah, he was still working on that part. The mysterious client had already given him half of the money up front, so he could cut and run; having Hydra on his tail here in New York was a strong argument for leaving. But the billionaire beside him was wiggling his toes in his socks like a little kid so Bucky found himself saying “I don’t know.”

“Because it occurs to me that you didn’t have to give me this message in person, showing up all dark and brooding and dangerously sexy.” Tony shifted so that he could face Bucky, eyebrow raised with a slight smile. He nudged Bucky with his foot. “Not that I’m not glad to see you.”

Bucky smirked at the dangerously sexy part. He would never admit on pain of death that he’d been trying to make a better impression this time. Instead, he said, “Would you have taken the threat seriously if I’d sent an email?”

“If you’d signed it, ‘Sincerely, James Buchanan Barnes, Winter Soldier slash Assassin’ I would have.” Suddenly Tony sat up straight and the flirty look fell away. “Look, I think you need some help if Hydra is on your tail and you’ve decided to give the finger to some mysterious, powerful stranger that wants me dead. Is it…” Tony hesitated and chewed on his lip. “If it’s Steve, I won’t tell-”

“No, that’s not the problem, Steve and I are cool. These days we mostly communicate by internet memes and movie quotes.”

Tony stared. “Internet memes and movie quotes,” he echoed.

“Yeah. Kermit reaction gifs, those ‘one fear’ cartoons-”

“That two-faced, lying, son of a bitch,” Tony breathed, face awed. “He asked me just yesterday how to get the ‘moving pictures’ on his laptop.”

Bucky tried to smother a smile. "Did he give you the 'gosh I'm just lucky' line during poker yet? Because you know he's got a photographic memory and cheats like a bastard."

"That son of a bitch," Tony repeated. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at Tony’s dawning realization of how thoroughly he’d been being trolled by Steve. The awe was quickly replaced by a narrow-eyed look that promised retribution, and just like that Bucky realized he’d already made his decision. He'd made it before he ever broke into Stark Tower.

“I’ll stay,” he said, draining his glass and setting it down on the coffee table. “And for the record, the name you’ll be shouting later is ‘Bucky.’”

#winteriron #tony x bucky #bucky barnes #tony stark #prompts #dracusfyre

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sammlethal · 5 years ago

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Anyone ever tell you that they do not love you? At that point when you have stars in your eyes and that person fills your heart to bursting? Have you ever given someone every single emotion there is to give? From rage to tears of joy? Emotions from both your personal stock and theirs?

Its like we live in a time period where actual love is dead. Everything is selfish. Everyone. Me included.

My father quit on me. Packed all mine and my siblings belongings into small plastic shopping bags and dropped us off 6 hours away in my mothers neighborhood, not sure which house was hers. I had to hold my brother and sister's hands while knocking door to door, looking for my mom. I was 12.

That was a couple years after the era of beatings, after the era of divorce. After that Friday afternoon day at school; my mother was the school bus driver before the divorce. Everyday we rode home with her. Until my father picked us all up. It was fun for us kids. We NEVER got picked up, and by our father! What a thing! He drove us to our pastors house. We did not see our mother again for almost 5 years. In the State of Virgina, in the late 90s, it wasnt considered kidnapping for a biological parent to take off with the kids if they stay within state lines. And my mother must have given up after that. I imagine the evil that was my real father, and how crushed and scared she must have been. Only now do I know what it is she felt.

That was after the molestation of me and my sister by our God father/Sunday school teacher/the churches singing coach.

Then there was my first love. I was 17. She was 16. By 19 we had a daughter, her name is Serenity. My ex was a freak. My demanded things from me that I could not give her, not physically. So in order to keep her and my kid, I let her have her satisfaction and pleasure.

I guess someone screwed her over because she fabricated these fake police reports about a guy who kept coming after her and she said she called the cops over and over and he wouldnt leave her alone (she was 6 months preggo when this happened) and she didnt feel safe and I beat him up. I beat him up bad. Almost killed him. Turns out she lied and he had been paying her for preggo nude flicks and videos amd she felt he still owed her money. So she used my insecurities and my nature and set me on a course that led me to 5 years in prison. Then she left me. Yeah I know. I'm a fucking idiot. My only defense was that i was young and dumb and in love. Or so I thought. No really...i thought it was the right thing. That I was protecting my small, new family. And damnit man, family means the world to me. Probably because mine has been so fucked up lol.

Anyways I get out in 2015 and I meet a girl. She rocks my world in all new was and we CLICK. Like...humor and taste and the world issues we care about and nerdy things and the SEX IS ON FIRE. And I fucked up. I fucked up bad. I broke her heart. I got drunk. I started the road to becoming my biological father.

Then she left me. Which was biggest, greatest thing she could have ever done for me. I went spiraling out of control and ended up living in the woods.

Until she calls me one day. I had a new girlfriend. We did not CLICK lol...and as soon as me and her spoke I turned to that girl and told her we were not gonna work out.

You see. Me and my lady had a son together. A beautiful, handsome as hell and adorable baby boy. And he really became my world. I walked 7 miles to meet him. My feet had popped blisters by the time I got downtown and saw them. The whole time I'm walking I'm hopping she didnt leave. That she would wait. And she did.

Then I messed up again. I scared her. That time between when we broke up and when she came back...i did not do good. I found cocaine and alcohol and it led to a very big fight between the two of us. That night we fought I have never been more like my father than right then and there. And I payed for it. The next morning I was arrested. No one thought of rehab. No one had the sight to see the root of the issues. Or no one cared. It was back to prison for me. A parole violation.

I got out. We tried again. I failed again. Only this time nothing horribly bad had happened. She just wanted an escape. I know this because she has since told me so. That she wasn't IN LOVE with me and needed an escape. We had been split up almost a week. I will never forget. It started on a Wednesday night, I left and went to my mothers. That following Sunday the police beat down the door and arrested me AGAIN. Only this time nothing bad had happened. Not really. She just didnt want to be with me. And so she sent me away. For two more years. 2!

I get out. I find peace finally. I start taking care of mental health.

She comes back! Again! And once again I leave my girlfriend at the time, who by the way, had a heart of gold and did not deserve to get caught up in mine and my lovers drama. I will forever feel guilty about that and I hope she forgives me over time. But at the end...no one can replace my son's Mother. She is my other half. My best friend.

We've been going since April? May? It had been a few years and I had just gotten out a few months before and the Covid just hit so I was trying to get the family court papers started. I got in touch with a private detective to find her so I could have her served. The the last thing I expected was to get a call from her.

And here we are. I am struggling to learn all the important, fundamental life lessons that my parents failed to teach me. I am struggling to learn those crucial relationship lessons we learn when in our twenties...that era of my life that was spent locked away.

All i want is my family. Is to be loved. And to ve able to return that love. My life could have went a few different ways. But here I am, doing the right things as much as I see them. I beat myself up when I fail. I work hard doing general construction. I'm good at it too. I start school in the spring. Nothing fancy just community college. I am an awesome dad. An awesome lover. And I have a huge heart.

ALMOST every single day I am with my little family. My son's Mother and my son. She doesnt want me to move in...which I understand. She claims to be an introvert. Which I also understand. (Along with beating, my childhood was also spent locked in my room, grounded, for days on days on days).

And dont get it wrong. Me and her have some issues. Mine (I think?) are just basic life things I'm trying to wrap my head around, like I said, the things my parents failed me on. But at least I know that. I admit it. And I'm trying. Because I'm a good man who has been through hell and because of that hell, I love with a feirceness, I don't give up. I am patient. And I generally have a positive outlook on life. I would I am doing good, all things considered. Her issues? Jesus fucking Christ. You would swear the world is ending right now.

She is constantly breaking up with me. For example, this weekend I gave it to her in a way neither of us have had...im talking sex here...we both have this...fetish, both of us (how rare?) And we both click when we do these things. Anyways I left her empty of all juices. Then I massaged her a little that night, telling her how good and amazing she is. Then another nice massage a day or so later. She thanked me after the last one (massage I mean)...saying how her back didnt hurt in the morning and how she got her yoga done.

And now we are broken up. Right now. Again. It was last week when it happened. She calls me on Wednesday or Thursday and says that I got in her head. Then this awesome weekend happens. Then an awesome start to the week. Then tuesday, doing construction, I think i pulled something in my leg or gave myself a small hernia, because after work I was in pain and sore. I asked told her I wanted to stay home. Rest up. That the next day we were supposed to start this big window replacement job. 20 something windows. But no. We argued over it. I dont know why. I think she just really missed me. Or so I thought. And said she needed help with our son. She always says that, then when i get there and dinner is over, the rest of her night is spent on her phone (which she is sneaky with), on the TV, or MAYBE catching up on homework. Says she is tired after a long day of working from home, on the phone and computer. Doing IT. But I do physical labor. And if I complain that I am sore or tired she just thinks i want to sit at home on my PlayStation or watching netflix, instead of taking the responsibility to be there for our son. Which remember, I am ALWAYS THERE. Unless she has decided that I am horrible, in which case she breaks up with me, and I spend the next couple of days hurt and crying and missing my family. I can not move in with her and my son. She does not want her family to know. (My mother told me she would disown me if me and her got back together. But it did not stop me. Because i am a man, and she is my woman. He is my son. And this is my life)....and is so stressed and anxious that will find me over there. I have actually, more than once, had to run and hide because her family popped up.

So yeah, I walk over there. This was Tuesday. The day when I think I pulled a muscle. I walked. She says that the only reason I walked was because she had to yell at me. But man...see these text. You would swear I am the world's largest dick head. In reality she said all these things in front of my son. That night I touched her. Massaged her just a little...soft touches. We made love. I woke up throughout the night with leg cramps. Woke up the next morning so tired from lack of sleep and hurting leg muscles. Called the doctor. Had to miss work. Turns out that yep, I gave myself a small hernia. Then WALKED on it lol.

So when we talked yesterday. I told her that the doc is pretty sure I have a hernia...my appointment was today and yes...yes I do have a little hernia. Doc wants me to rest but I'm pretty sure I have to work. Anyways so yesterday, before she picks our boy up from daycare (by the way, kuddos to you moms who work from home AND have kids to deal with at the same time. You girls are superheros!)...which I agree with daycare. He is an only child and he needs interaction with other kids. It's important for his development. Anywho, she ask me before picking him up if I want to come over. I tell her no, tell her what the doc said. By this point I have been there everyday since Friday. While on parole and breaking cerfew and worried about that. (Which I got questioned on. If I didnt worry about parole before, why now? And I dunno. Thats way of anxiety? But good thing I did because he came by this morning and I was here. Had I been there with her, I would have been here and would be on my way to a big ole parole violation. But no. In her eyes I dont do enough. I have to be there every day, no matter if I'm sick or sore or in pain. That is what she said. That a real parent never quits.

I'm just so confused. I didnt quit. He can come over here to my place whenever he wants. Ive told her this. I have told him that. Of all nights for the two of us to stay at our respective homes, last night was it. I AM IN SO MUCH PAIN AND CAN BARELY MOVE.

But she broke up with me again last night. Or better yet, said that we have been broken up. She said she doenst love me anymore.

How? Literally all we do is laugh. Have amazing sex. We are awesome parents. I literally dote on her. Massage her. Touch her softly. Like for real, I EMPTIED her of all juices, have seen her cry...actually cry, from pleasure. She makes 50x more money than I do, but I still give her money because I don't want to feel like a burden.

I dont get it. I really don't. I give the shirt off my back. Gave myself a hernia. All I want is belong to a family that doesn't quit when the anxiety comes. Who doesnt take a lifetime of anxiety and stress and then blame it on someone else simply because they are what is in front of you at the moment.

How can someone be so smart and not see that? Or not want to?

Its 2020. We live in a world that encourages us to lie to ourselves. To lie to ourselves about our nature. We all believe we are good. Harmless people. Who would never hurt anyone or cause ill will. What we fail to see is that yes, we do cause all of these things, and then some. We are not perfect. We are human. We will hurt other people. We will lie. The great tragedy of the world isnt this in and of itself...these different hurts and heart aches are as old as humanity is....war, peace. Love and hate. The great tragedy is that we have been led to believe that we are beyond that, that we good, perfect people. And so when we do hurt others, its not our faults but theirs because how can I, this wonderful human being in the modern age, ever hurt someone? I have a car, a job, I'm a good parent. I'm a good boss. Whatever it is. We justify who we are by our level of success. And this is wrong.

And when she ask me why I love her after everything. Those moments when we both see the truth and see who we are, those are the moments when she ask me how I'm the world I can actually love her knowing all this. Dealing with all this. How? And I dont have the answer. I just know that my heart beats for the two of them (her and my boy) and it always will and I really hope one day she comes around. I'm waiting for that.

Some men find that one lady, that one lover, and there is nothing else after her that we want. She has it all. And that is me. That is her.

I love you

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mubal4 · 5 years ago

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Wrapping It Up – The 4 x 4 x 48 Challenge

We are living in unique times. Interesting way to describe this I guess, but it is unique. Globally, we have pivoted, adapted, and by this time, created some new normals or at least different ways of doing things. Likely, some good habits have been formed and some may have gone back to some old tricks 😊!! I know I have consumed more beer and types of foods over the last two months than “normal.” 😊 It is all good though; based on what I’ve been fortunate enough to see, via social media, Facetiming/Video conferencing with family/friends, or just talking with folks, we’ve been overcoming these “unique” times well. Although changes have been made, one thing that has remained consistent for me is running. Overall, in the last 2+ months I don’t believe I am running farther or more. Like most of our lives, I’ve just changed some things up a bit. Part of that has been due to timing and circumstances with the quarantine and social distancing; some because the type of race I have coming up in July; and part because some shit has just gotten boring to be honest. So, when I saw this David Goggins Challenge video come across my Twitter feed, it grabbed my attention.

You can watch the 1-minute video, but it is basically running 4 miles, every 4 hours, for 48 miles. It was pretty cool how he positioned it too; “if you can’t run, walk; if you can walk; do pushups…….” It seemed like his intent was to just to get people moving, out of their comfort zone, and adapting to the nonsense. Since I am training for a 100-miler I thought this would be a great training exercise for a number of reasons. Obviously, the mile over two days, sleep deprivation, nutrition planning, and one big differentiator, life commitments!!! In the race, I won’t be thinking about family responsibilities, work, or puppy stuff 😊; it is just left foot, right foot. Since I started this on Thursday afternoon, I still had some conference calls to attend, work commitments, and family stuff so it added a layer. That said, as it relates to the family commits, Robin, as per usual, and the girls, sacrificed a ton, not only with dinners and puppy stuff, but, at least for Robin, sleep too. Thursday and Friday nights, I headed out at 1030pm and 230am. The first session each night, Robin was just about headed to bed but at 230am she was sleeping, and I tried to be as quiet as possible, for her, as well as for the puppy too 😊. It was nice to hear on Saturday morning once she woke up that that nights 230am session, she didn’t even hear me leave or come back. Guess all these years doing these crazy things it is good her mind is at ease while I run around Phoenix at 230 in the morning 😊😊😊!! That all said, none of this really came to mind when Robin and I discussed doing it. All I thought was 4 miles, every 4 hours, for 48 miles? I can do that!! So, at 230pm on Thursday, we got things started, easy peasy and session 2 at 630pm was awesome with a sunset, late afternoon run; I was in my happy place. All good. Got back and had a quick dinner (I will get into the nutrition in a moment) and we all were just chilling on the couch. Now, typically, Robin and I are toes up in bed by 10pm so, as my body clock was telling me, right around 945pm I started dozing a bit on the couch; fortunately, I had an alarm set just in case. But the thing was, I was setting an alarm for 1010pm to go out and run 4 miles at 1030pm. Needless to say, as I was tying my shoes, my comment to Robin, “why the hell did I commit to this; this is f#$%ing stupid.” She wished me a “have a good run, I will be sleeping when you get back.” 😊 The thoughts of feeling sorry for myself were quickly gone as soon as I started session number 3 and the night air, cooler temps, and darkness provided a different perspective to my run. I wanted to run around our area of town just to see what was happening, if there was anything happening. Out here in AZ, the stay at home orders are being lifted and there are a couple of restaurants/bars I would be running by so I was intrigued to say the least. There were still a few folks out walking at that time and traffic was light; however, this one bar, about 1 mile from our house, was packed. I guess the regulars were just waiting for things to be lifted. I went by again on Friday nights 1030pm run too and same deal. I giggled a bit but it also gave me a sense of relief that maybe things are working toward “normal.” Also, won’t lie, a beer sounded good at that time.

This is where adapting needed to happen because my body and internal clock was not going to be used to these next 30 or so hours. Running the initial 12 miles from 230pm through 1030pm wasn’t much out of the realm of my comfort zone. Now, I was getting home at 11pm, trying not to wake up Robin and the dog (the girls were still up doing what teenage girls do at that time 😊), getting fluids in, getting cleaned up, and getting things ready for 230am…….& hopefully trying to get sleep. Well, I was a bit amped up from the run so I thought that sleep was going to be tough. I got cleaned up, got plenty of water in me, and then figured I would watch some TV to put me to bed. Well, that worked, and I fell right asleep and woke up about 90 minutes later. Interestingly getting up at this moment and getting out was much easier than at 1030pm. Not sure why but it was. The run, however, was a bit weird and at both 230am sessions. I kept these 2 runs close to the house around this 1.35-mile loop. I didn’t want to stray to for, well, since it is 230am. On the first loop, Thursday, I guess this would be Friday morning, I first heard a rooster crowing!! Yep, a rooster – we don’t live near any farmland. On the second loop, I heard what I thought was a leaf blower…..@ 230am? What the hell? Then, the most interesting thing happened on the last loop. I was on this one road, drive it daily, and I white SUV pulls out of a side street. Okay, at that time of night, could be going to work, coming back, whatever. They pull out but just turnaround and head back where they came. My first thought was that maybe they were scouting out homes/cars to break into or something or, maybe they were just drunk. No big deal. I finished up the run and went home; didn’t think about it. However, 24 hours later, on that same loop at that same time, same car, same spot, pulls out, now we are going towards one another, it stops…………I kept running, faster now and find a dark spot on the road, click off my headlamp and stop. The car was already moving but then did the same thing, u-turn in the middle of the road. This was a bit freeky man and it was on my first loop too. I was running by there two more times. Holy shit right!! Well, nothing happened but it was just some weird stuff. I told Robin yesterday afternoon that I was going to go up there all next week at 230am, dressed in all black and see what happens 😊.

That was pretty much the only excitement of the event. Back to Friday morning, since the nature of this event, getting time on the trails was difficult but did go out at 630am Friday. Got on the trail, got some climbing in and it was a beautiful day. Stopped to take a shot of the trails from the top that I shared above. Also was able to get out on the trails Friday night and Saturday morning. Friday night I was able to meet a nice rattlesnake too!!! By “meet” I mean he was on the side of the trail and scared the poop out of me. I never did see him, just heard him. Not sure if I would rather face the white SUV or the rattler? The remaining sessions were all, pretty much, uneventful; just getting them done and keep moving forward. Overall, it was a great challenge and believe awesome training on many fronts. Although there wasn’t much climbing, it did offer a number of different layers that will definitely help come July. Want to again thank Robin and the girls for all the support, sacrifice, and help they provide me during these nutty things I do. All the folks that reached out via text, calls, or the FB live sessions, thank you very much. Very inspirational and you guys helped keep me going.

Haven’t been much into statistics and stuff when it comes to these kinds of things. Hell, up until January I was still using my 20+ year old Ironman stopwatch but Robin got me this Garmin one for Christmas and it has been fun to sort of geek out with it. So, for those that may be interested, I am providing some “noticings” from the 4x4x48 event. Thanks again for keeping me going and following along 😊!!

· Started at 230pm 5/14 and ended at 1059am 5/16 – total hours = 44.5-ish!

· Total miles = 48.7

· Total running time = 433 minutes (7 hrs 13 mins) – thought this was interesting that it was an exact number. Zero seconds after added up 😊

· Average pace = 8:53 (36:05 average for each 4ish mile session

· Total Vert = 1186

· Sleep = approximately 5 hours total

· 9 shirts & 7 pairs of shorts (yep – reused shorts – easy to do when you jump in the pool after a run), 12 pairs of socks, 3 different pairs of running shoes

· Food intake – 2 strawberry/banana milkshakes, 2 peanut butter/banana Clif bars, 2 apples, 1 grilled cheese, 2 hummus tortilla wraps, approximately a half a box of regular Cheeze-itz (original flavor), couple handfuls of peanut butter pretzels, 1 double expresso Clif bar gel

#4x4x48 - outsidethecomfortzone callousthemind preparethesoul beadaptable

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lubdubsworld · 8 years ago

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Something’s Gotta Give. ( Taehyung/Oc)

Chapter 3

“Tae?” I said groggily, lightly reaching out to prod the prone figure on the carpet, still wearing his jacket and suit and curled on the floor , sleeping fitfully. I tried again and he didn’t move. I picked up the two bottles of vodka and grimaced. He was going to feel like hell when he got up.

Sighing, i moved to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water before setting the kettle to boil. Taehyung had the tolerance of a fifteen year old. I could imagine how he would feel when he woke up. I scratched at the linoleum surface of the counter, trying to dredge up some anger , some annoyance.

But I was drained.

I didn’t hate him. I couldn’t hate him. Yes, he did something awful. Yes, he betrayed me. But, he was still Taehyung.

my Taehyung. I couldn’t hate him.

But i wasn’t an idiot. I would move out. My studio apartment from when i was in college was in Gangnam. Jung Kook crashed there when he wanted some time to himself but i knew he was staying with Yoongi at his penthouse. I would give him a call and then move there , hopefully later in the day. I couldn’t got to my brother or my parents.

They wouldn’t understand.

I grabbed some fennel seeds, sliced up a small ginger root and minced it, before adding a little thyme into the water as well. I let the tea diffuse and sat down on the table, staring into the wall.

“My mariage is over.” I said softly.

The words were oddly loud in the peaceful kitchen.

“Kim Taehyung and i are over. “ I said a bit louder.

It didn’t feel anymore realer. But then, over the past few months, one part of me had known that I was going to end up like this, right? I knew it. Taehyung had been distant, indifferent and hurtful. He had been falling out of love with me.

But falling out of love is ... okay. I could deal with it.

Falling in love with another woman?

Not so much.

“Rae Mi?” His voice startled me badly, and I nearly knocked the glass of water over as I jumped. He was standing in the doorway, looking like hell. I gripped the table to stop myself from rushing over and supporting his swaying frame. The need to touch him was so strong that i wanted to cry. Taehyung had been the most physically affectionate person in the world and as his wife I had been the recipient of nearly 90 % of that affection : the cuddles, the hugs, the impromptu bridal-carries, the inpomptu piggy backing.

“ Sit down. i made tea,.” I said dully.

He groaned and moved to the chair opposite me, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. I stared at him, fondness and sadness and disappointment blooming inside me like a poisonous weed.

What a waste. We could have had it all. We could have been forever. What an utter waste of so many years of love.

“Rae, please... Can we just...” He began, reaching out, but i pulled my hand away.

“I just... Why?” I said softly. I didn’t want to yell.

He gave me a long, miserable look.

“I ... don’t know.” He whispered finally.

I stared at him, feeling frustrated and confused.

“Rae mi, I’ve been so tired these few months , i signed that stupid contract which meant that I couldn’t even come home when i wanted to , and I couldn’t talk to the hyungdeul or even you because i was just so busy! “

I fought the urge to whimper.

“Okay. That’s fine. But Tae, why didn’t you just talk to me? If you wanted out, i would have given you a divorce ! i would have moved out!” I said miserably.

His eyes went wide at that,

“No! That’s not.. That’s not what i want. I don’t want you to leave Rae mi! “

“Of course you don’t. But then, I’m not the one who left, remember? You left... last night when i begged you to stay. And a countless more times before that. “ I pointed out.

He bit his lips.

“Give me one chance. I swear I’ll make...”

“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say you’ll make it up to me , because there is nothing in the world you can do to make it up to me!” I felt the first sting of tears and tried to get my self under control.

“I’m sorry.” He said and I stood up slowly, grabbing the fine-bone china cps. We’d bought it on our trip to Macau, in a quaint little antique shop, right outside our hotel room. i traced the pretty pink and blue patters on the rim and sighed.

“Stop being sorry. You don’t have to be sorry .” I said finally. “ I mean, yes, you should be sorry for chaeting on me but I won’t blame you for wanting her. She’s ... well she’s Lalisa Manoban. How could I ever compete?” I said dejectedly, pouring the tea into the cup carefully.

Taehyung made a noise of distress and stood up, swaying a bit as he came closer, holding a hand out.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me. She’s just... i don’t even know what she is. i don’t even care... Rae Mi, i know I messed up real bad, but please... please don’t throw this away... Don’t throw away what we have, baby...”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“You did the throwing away. “ I snapped. “ I’m not the one who..”

“I begged you to come with me! I asked you to come with me to Hong kong!!” He shouted.

I froze.

“What?! Are you insane.... Your fans hate me! Every single one of them hates me , you know that!” I hissed. “ Why would i come there ?!”

“See! That’s it,... You care so much about what the fans feel but you don’t care what i feel... i was so fucking lonely and depressed and i just... i just wanted to be able to hold you at the end of the day! And you straight up refused to come with me. You didn’t even ask why. you didn’t even ask me what was bothering me!” He hissed.

I felt myself choke on my own disbelief.

“Are you fucking kidding me! Anytime I did, you kept telling me not to worry and that this was your job !! You did it so many times that i gave up!”

“So, you admit it , then.. You gave up on us, before i cheated on you...”

“Oh, my God, Taehyung are you listening to yourself, right now?!”

“I’m sorry okay?! i fucked up with Lisa.. i don’t.. I don’t even know how that happened... She called me to have a drink and we were talking about the movie and just... i got drunk . I don’t even remember touching her. i don’t even know if something happened or not! But I do know thatyou’ve been pushing me away...”

“I’m pushing you away? When did i ever..You , you were the one who brought her to our home! And then you left with her! You left me at home and went with her!! .”

“Because i found those pills in the bathroom counter!! ” He yelled.

i froze.

“Taehyung...”

“i found those fucking birth control pills in your bathroom , yesterday okay?? That was why i had to get out of the house!! that was why i fucking went with that woman and got fucking drunk because i found out that my wife is on birth control, while here i am, praying every second of everyday that god would just grant me one miracle.... That i’d be able to hold my baby...!! How long have you been on those, huh? ! when were you even planning to tell me about those!!” He whispered.

I felt my entire body go ice cold. Oh God, i had left them on the counter. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I... I just... “

“How long..? Just telkl me how long, that’s all i want to hear”

i took a deep breath

“Two years.” I said finally.

He laughed.

“Great. That’s just so fucking great...”

i felt my entire body seize up in protest.

“But I stopped three months ago!!! Taehyung, we’d been trying for six years and i was just so frustrated!! i was so scared and i just wanted to .”

I bit my lips, not sure how to explain it.

TAehyung growled low.

“ Wanted to what? Take away even the little chance that we did have?!! Yeah, we’ve been trying for years....So what? I don’t mind trying for another decade! I .. Want us to have a kid. I want a child and i know, deep down that we’re meant to have one! I just don’t know why you decided to just stop trying without even talking to me about it. That isn’t a breach of trust?! Do you have any idea how i felt, seeing those damn pills!” He shouted.

“So you went out an banged the first girl you met! That makes sense! That makes it all okay!! Doesn’t it?? ”

“I went out because i was afraid , i would fucking lose it! That i’d yel;l at you or God forbid break something! i left because i wanted to get my head on straight.. But you know what’s funny? even when i was leaving, i saw you standing there looking so lost and I wanted to make it better....” He shook his head.

I bit my lips.

“I... Ever since you started doing that movie, you’ve been distant. You were attarcted to her, don’t deny it!”

“Are you insane? If i was attractyed to her and if i wanted her, why would i ask you to come along with me? And i did! ... I asked you to come with me. I hoped that we could talk it out. That we could at least consider adoption. But all you kept saying was ‘ your career is important. You need to concentrate on your work.’....”

“Because, I knew how important it was to you!! You worked so hard on that movie, i didn’t want you to be stressed out because of me as well!”

“And who the hell are you to decide that, huh? You get to choose when I should come to you? You get to decide when I should stay away?! It doesn’t matter what i want?”

I clenched my fists.

“Don’t try to turn this on me.” I whispered.

“Turn what? The blame? I’m not. I’m not saying that i cheated because of what you did. I’m saying that, I felt cheated on as well, when i saw those pills. “

I laughed in disbelief.

“Are you saying it’s the same thing? Me taking pills and you cheating on me ?!”

“No! I’m saying that at least i didn’t know what i was doing. I didn’t mean to have one to many drinks yesterday. i fully meant to come back home to you. But i hadn’t slept in eighteen fucking hours and I was so fucking tired. And then i saw those damn pils and i made a mistake? I should have had my head on staright but i was hurt and I was lonely and she was there.. she was just there ... when i needed someone...”

I stared at him, feeling miserable.

“Taehyung, i don’t want to fight. i think.. We need a break. You and i... we need to get our head on straight before we just say stuff that’s going to make everything worse. ”

He didn’t respond.

“Let’s just take a break.” I said again.

“You want to leave me then?” He said sulkily.

“Not.. leave. I don’t know.. i just.. we’ve known each other and loved each other for eight years Taehyung !! After eight years it’s not that simple! i can’t just up and leave you and i can’t just forgive you either and i know that you’re hurt about the pills and i know that i shouldn’t have done that but.. I just... I wanted to stop being so disappointed , every monthh ... i wanted to move on and accept that maybe we weren’t meant to have kids and i was scared that you wouldn’t agree...”

“So you went and did it anyway...”

“Shut up and hear me out! I was scared and I was lonely and i made a mistake. and i’m going to ... give you the benefit of the doubt about what happened last night. But it still doesn’t change the fact that I’m hurt. I need time. And I think so do you. Let’s just take a break from each other.”

He sighed.

“You’re right. Just.. I don’t want us to end like this.i don’t want us to end , period. i’m not ready for that. ” He said fists clenching.

I softened.

“we’re not ending. It’s just a phase. We’ll work it out. “ I said, the words fake and meaningless.

“I’ll move out then...” He began

“No! i.. my studio is still free . I think i want to paint a bit more. I’d like to go back there.” I said.

He sighed and nodded.

“So, that’s it then?”

“Let’s not make this more difficult. I’ll pack and be gone by the end of the day. if you could just... I don’t know.. go somewhere else...”

“Fine. Yeah, i understand. Okay. That’s fine. i’ll do that...”

“Thank you. And the tea is getting cold. You should have some, for your hangover. I’ve left it on the top shelf. It’s ginger, thyme , fennel .”

He smiled faintly.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you walk out like this...”

I ducked my head.

“i’m really happy that you are. “

“i may change my mind and come drag you back home. Just fair warning.” He said softly and I relaxed a little, feeling oddly nostalgic at the friendly banter.

We used to be best friends, I thought miserably. More than lovers, we were best friends. Our relationship was never about sex or romance or anything . it was about support and trust and just accepting each other the way we were.

“You still are...” He said suddenly, as though reading my mind.

“what?”

“My best friend. Always.”

“ To the moon and back?? ” i whispered, the forgotten phrase slipping out. His gaze softened and he smiled faintly.

“To the moon and back.” He moved closer and gave me a gentle hug . The scent of him was ... home.

Taehyung would always be home. I pulled away and sighed, watching him as he carefully took a sip of the tea and then downed it in one shot. He then picked up his jacket, gave me one last look of regret and walked out. I sagged against the table after the door shut behind him.

Home wasn’t home without Taehyung. So it wasn’t even difficult, packing my stuff and leaving our condo.

AUTHOR’S NOTE : Maybe one day i’ll let my characters be happy for once.. Ugh. Sorry.. Let me know what you think though!!

#bts imagines #kim taehyung #bts v #bts fanfics

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allonsy-yesiwill · 8 years ago

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It will be okay - Chapter 4

Pairing: Charlie x Reader, Dean x Reader

Summary: Your life is far from perfect or easy but you do the best with the family that you have constructed around you.

Word Count:2000 ish

Warnings: angst, drinking, underage drinking, peer pressure

A/N: This story takes place in an AU where hunting isn’t a think and the read grew up with the boys and their family. I am still super new to writing so I would love your feedback, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this :)

Get caught up here - Master list

The time flew by, weeks turning into months and before you knew it the flight you had booked so long ago is here and you will be back home by this time tomorrow. The wedding is still 3 months out but you promised Jess you would take a week off and come plan stuff out. Charlie invited herself to spend the night as she was taking you to the airport tomorrow.

“More wine, Y/N?”

“Sure, what can go wrong with tipsy packing,” you laughed.

“It’s the only way to pack, hey you should take this dress,” Charlie lets our holding up a little black dress that hasn’t seen the outside world in way too long.

“Why would I take that.”

“I am sure you would look great in it when Dean asks you out to dinner.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head,”Yeah that’s not going to happen”

“Says you,” Charlie gives you a look tucking the dress into your bag. When she turns back to your closet you simply set the dress on your bed.

Charlie continues to do this throughout the night, telling you what you should and shouldn’t take. Suggestions from sexy sleepwear, high heels, low cut tops and tight pants. Every time you continue to pull the item out of your bag and set it aside. You hear your phone ding, pulling it out from under the pile of clothes you will be leaving behind and walk over to your glass of wine on the dresser.

Pressing sending you turn around and see Charlie putting the close back that you didn’t want to take. “Thank you,” you let out.

“Yeah my money is still on team Y/N & Dean, but I get it. Plus I am sure you will look great in whatever you wear on your date.”

“You think your funny Charlie, don’t you. But it’s not going to happen.”

“First of all....I think I am adorable, second, we will just have to wait and see.”

Charlie helps you bring your bags down and clean up for the night before calling it a night. The whole time Charlie asking questions about Dean and his family. Your phone dings again this time Charlie is closest, feeling the need to announce the caller she lets out, “ Oh look it’s your boyfriend Y/N... that’s cute. This is the pre-date ask by the way.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head picking up your phone to respond to the text

“All right I am off to bed, have a good night Charlie and thank you for taking Friday off to take me to the airport.”

“That’s what friends do, have a good night Y/N”

The next morning is a bit of a blur as you overslept but Charlie woke you up in enough time for you to get dressed and out of the house in time. She was even kind enough to pick out an outfit for you flight that was going with the trend she picked yesterday.

Picking it up the pieces you say to yourself,”At least this is all comfy stuff I guess.”

As you walk into the living room, you hear Charlie let out a, “Yes you look so good.” As she sees you in your black leggings, a loose burgundy sweater that hangs off one of your shoulder and your flat black boots.

“You’re just lucky this is all comfy and well that Jess is picking me up at the airport,” you spit out walking out the front door.

You make it just in time to get through security and while you are waiting to board the flight you mindlessly check Facebook.

Really, you think to yourself but have to put your phone down as you hear your section called for boarding. The flight is only about 90 mins so you simply settle in with a good and enjoy the time you are disconnected from everything.

Once the plane lands and is headed to the gate you get the okay to turn on your phone and the messages start lighting up.

What the fuck, how did Charlie know this would happen.

You see Dean’s text but don’t have anything to say to move on to the next one.

There is no way in hell I am telling her about this, you think to yourself putting your phone away. As the plane starts to deboard you grab your stuff and head of the plane. As you get closer to where you will find Dean you feel your stomach crawling up your throat you have to stop for a moment to just calm yourself, so you duck into the bathroom.

“Y/N, we can do this, it’s going to be fine,” you say out loud to help calm your nerves.

“Got a big day in front of you darling, “ the woman next to you asks.

You turn looking to her, she’s about the same age and dressed for business travel. You smile and give her your response, “Kind of I guess, just seeing someone I haven’t seen in years.”

“Well, in that case, I think it will go very well because you look amazing.”

You thank your new friend has you both exit the restroom walking to the exit, you two continue to chat and they you see him. He’s standing and waving at you.

“Darling, I can see why you were nervous he’s gorgeous but remember you need to make him work for it,” your new friend says seeing Dean wave at you.

You laugh as you turn and face her and surprises you by giving you a friendly hug and softly saying “ Y/N you can do this you're strong and beautiful, you got this.”

Taken back by this stranger's kindness you let out, “Thank you so very much for everything.” Leaving your new friend behind you turn to finish the walk to Dean.

“Ah hey Y/N,” Dean lets out nervously as he takes a step looking to see if he can give you a hug, “how was your flight?”

Confidence from the stranger's kindness allows you to be sure on how to handle this. You open your arms allow Dean to give you a hug. It was timider than the ones you remember from the old days.

“It was good, thank you for picking me up Dean. Sorry for the trouble.”

“No trouble at all kiddo, you look very nice. Are we heading to Bobby’s place or are you staying somewhere else?”

“I need to get my bag then we can head to Bobby’s.”

You two move with conversation, the both of you trying to find where your flight's baggage claim is. Dean lets you know he will grab your bag when it comes around so you tell him it’s a Tiffany Blue large duffle with a white handle.

Dean laughs, “ That seems about right, that was always your favorite color. Hey isn’t that your friend from the flight.”

You turn to see what he is talking about and you see the person that offered you kind words earlier, “ Oh yeah.” You let out a smile as she was walking your way. With Dean standing by the luggage belt she softly says, “ Looks like it’s going well, he might be your unicorn.”

You let our laugh, “Well I am not sure about that but it is going well.” She smiles and steps forward to grab one of her bags, Dean notices this and grabs the bag for her. She gives him a smile and thank you before walking back to you and letting out, “ Unicorn darling, definitely a unicorn.” You let out a big laugh while wishing her a good night.

“You ready kiddo,” Dean says grabbing your attention. The both of you are still moving through the motions not saying much. The car ride is about the same, till you see a coffee shop.

“Do you mind if we stop at Starbucks, I could use a coffee but if it’s too much trouble don’t worry about it,” you let out

“Anything for you kiddo.” His words and riding in his baby a 67 Impala you are taken back.

“Pretty pretty please Dean, I am starving and the dinner is open 24 hours…….please, “ you beg.

“You're not starving you're drunk and you’re lucky it was me that answered the phone and not Bobby,” Dean said sternly.

He wasn’t wrong you were drunk, you had been invited to a party and came up with a fib that would let Bobby think you were staying at a friends house. You had only called because didn’t feel right about the place anymore. People were trying to get you to drink more than you wanted shoving shots in your face. When Dean walked into the party he almost killed the one boy who physically held the shot glass to your mouth while you were trying to push it way.

“Please don’t be mad at me Dean I am sorry I messed up,” you said feeling your drunken happiness fade into sadness. “Please don’t be mad, I don’t think I can take that.”

“I am not mad sweetheart, I am just worried about your safety, going to the party alone is not something you should have done. Why didn’t you ask Sam or Jess or even me? I know I am done with school but I still know everyone there tonight.”

“I just figured you would have better things to do and Sam and Jess wanted to spend some alone time, “ you say tossing up air quotes and making a puking face.

Dean laughs and your reaction to his brothers dating life, “I will never have better things to do than keeping you safe, Y/N.”

“Well, in that case, you’re going to have to keep me safe from Bobby by taking me to that dinner and letting me sober up a bit.”

“Anything for you kiddo.”

Dean opening your car door snaps you back into the real world. You two walk inside and Dean lets you place your order first.

“Can I get a black coffee with room and if you have a chocolate croissant I will take one of those.” Before you could pay Dean lets out his order letting you know that he’s got this and in return, you smile and nod.

Back in the car, you let out a soft, “ Thank you Dean, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to, so thank you for letting me,” Dean said with a smile.

Pulling into Bobby's driveway Dean offers to let you go inside and he will bring your bags in, you agree excited to see who was home. Walking inside you see Ellen cleaning up a bit as you announce, “I am home, where's the welcome wagon.”

“Right here honey, so good to see you,” she lets out while wrapping you in a big hug.

You notice Dean walking by with your bags as he starts to take them up to your room. Ellen notices him to softly asking, “How did that go?” She was there for you the night you finally broke down about everything after Dean didn’t show up for your birthday and Michael was making you choose between them.

“Good I think, we have been talking a bit more over the past few months. It’s not fixed but we are civil to each other.”

After Dean comes back down the stairs they exchange hugs and Dean asks rubbing the back of his neck, “ Y/N I think we are all hanging out at Sammy’s bar tonight is you wanted to join us, Ellen are you working tonight?”

“Yes dear I am, Y/N you could get a ride in with Bobby once he gets done with work,” Ellen kindly suggested.

“Um yeah sure that sounds good, I guess.”

“Okay great, we'll see you guys later than.”

If you want to be tagged just let me know

#spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #Dean Winchster #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #reader x dean #fanfic #spn au fanfic #spn au

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plainsimplevic · 6 years ago

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Well - That’s One Way To Come Out At Work

That was surprising. At work, as I've been vehemently talking about on twitter, there's been a lot of homophobic slurs being thrown around. Just as importantly, it was communicated to me that I basically needed to step up or I'd be fired. That I was “making excuses” for not doubling my output and occasionally coming in later (sometimes too late) in the day. This is when I've done nothing but excel at this job. In fact I've been given additional responsibility and praised by those who are hardest to please! I’ve pushed through illness after illness the past 6 months. Fought through infections so painful I could feel them through the haze caused by an entire bottle of whiskey. I’ve been here in the middle of the night vibrating because my cold is that bad. I’ve gotten SURGERY because I realized a condition was affecting my work - prioritizing that over other procedures I need done because I believe in fulfilling my commitments. Period. Whatever it takes. Be they professional, personal, or in support of my loved ones. And now my dedication, competency, and integrity are being questioned and I’m being threatened on top of all the bigotry? Those are NOT things you question about me. I’m not perfect and I fuck up but those base values are what makes me, me. Hell, my motto is Honour, Courage, Integrity!

It had gotten to the point that I've been very close to exploding, quitting, calling them the bigots they were, and storming out. I nearly did so this week after one boss was subtly (though I believe ignorantly) racist and the other was using gay slurs within half an hour.

After calming myself down, my plan was to consult with some friends this week, calm down further, get some sleep, and be professional. To put in my 2 weeks, tell them why, and use the last pitiful paycheck to put myself in a position to make money by other means.

Now, as I continued to calm down, I realized that immediately pulling the trigger on quitting was an immature way to handle the situation. As much as I wanted to, the enlightened thing to do would be to open a dialogue with my bosses and trying to resolve the situation rather than treat them as hostile. Despite the evidence, there may be more going on that I’m unaware of and they may be receptive to what I have to say. What can I say? I’m a Trekkie who grew up in the TNG era. Exhaust all opportunities for discussion before taking any action that could be taken as hostile. It may sound silly, but that show was very formative for me and the principles I learned from it have helped me well in life. #IAmStarfleet

But, after FINALLY getting some sleep last night and with one of the bosses gone on a business trip, something felt right about doing this today. I’d had some sleep so I knew my emotional control would be there and I wasn’t going to act unprofessionally. The boss had just come back from a “liquid lunch” so he was relaxed but not drunk. Having come out the day before to my straight-ally coworker had heartened me. And I was not so overloaded that I couldn’t take some time and write the 3-4 pages of talking points I needed to write before hand to keep me on track if I got flustered. So, I positioned myself so that my boss couldn’t avoid me (not that he was trying - just so he knew I needed to talk to him) and asked for a half hour one on one before he left. He agreed. It was no big issue.

Now, I’ve dealt with similar situations before. When I worked political campaigns, I was not only in a much more demanding and labor intensive positions (20+ hour days for months with no ability to take weekends off) but that boss was a total, self absorbed, jackass that continued tearing me down despite all I was doing. Nothing was good enough. So I called him and demanded a meeting. He asked when I could come in. I demanded he come to me (I was an hour and a half away). I sat him down and did then what I did today. I explained the situation and told him why there was an issue. At the next team meeting he promised to do better and afterwards gave me a big hug and thanked me. He didn’t change and was eventually replaced, but the point is that I knew that this is something I could do. But that doesn’t make it less scary. Especially since this involved something so personal that I’ve had so many issues dealing with over my life. Especially since I’ve only in the past few weeks felt comfortable enough with my sexuality to begin to talk about it with straights who are my long term friends. It surprised the heck out of me when I came out to my co-worker yesterday. #Scary.

I also had several people cautioning me not to do this. My mother was the most adamant. But also a friend who was concerned that this place was so hostile that I might just face further discrimination. For insight into my mindset, and really, just who I am, I want to quote an excerpt from my response to that.

“The bigotry, lack of respect, and lack of compensation is whats bugging me. If this convo fixes that... Long hours I'm meh about and I enjoy the work. And that’s not judging others. That’s just who I am. I'm the guy who has the guts to face things head on. Stare the darkness in the face and dare it to extinguish my light. If I lose that, I lose everything. I cant have that with every other aspect of my life and not this now that I've accepted it.”

And for those who are going to criticize me and say that my lack of self acceptance of my sexual identity disproves that statement let me point a couple things out. 1) Bandwidth. Without going into too much detail, my life, especially the past 10 years, has been ROUGH. It’s hard to do things like process your sexuality issues when you’re doing things like working 16 hour days while a tooth rots in your head because you can’t afford to get the root canal you need because all you’re money’s going into making the choice between food and bills. Or when everyone around you, with the exception of your mother, does not seem to be, but is actually dying or abandoning you. 2) Lack of community. I’m just a man and I have my limits - sometimes I need help. By reaching out for that help, I’m proving my statements about myself true. I haven’t had anyone I could turn to and ask, “what was it like for you?”. No-one to relate to. No-one to tell me that there’s nothing wrong with me. I didn’t even have support outside the queer community dealing with every other aspect life - much less in it to deal with this. Every time I reached out the past 5 or 6 years to try to get that support, I was shut down in some way. I’ve had community members shrug and be dismissive, not understanding the traumas involved with growing up Catholic and in a homophobic setting. I’ve had people point to some reading material, pat me on the head, and send me on my merry - not truly understanding the damage 25+ years of internalized homophobia can cause. I’ve had one gal talk about bi-erasure in one breath, insist I’m straight in the other, declare how lesbians are superior to all others, and then try to get me to apologize for being a cishet man. Which, growing up primarily raised by women, having strong memories of sitting around the table as they talk about how horrible men are, being told “but you’re different” and “one of the good ones” and left feeling othered and wondering how much I should hate myself for my gender did NOT go over well. But that’s an entire blog post in it of itself and I digress.

So the time for the meeting came and I told my boss everything. I told him that he needed to quit the gay slurs. That I was bi. That I had met and was falling for the most amazing guy which had inspired me to make another attempt at confronting these issues. That the past couple months have been awesome and positive but extremely intense. That there’s been many times where I’ve held it together during the day and then just stared into my monitor for hours unable to do anything but have tears in my eyes once everyone left. That I’ve been on my laptop so much because I’m getting (and giving) support. That I’m afraid that some of my friends may end themselves and not be there tomorrow. Of all the illness I’ve been pushing through. And how, through it all, I still got the job DONE.

And the response was shocking. He was completely taken aback. He asked, “what slurs?” I gave him an example and, being total white straight male, he hadn’t even realized what he was doing. He asked if I was gay. I told him bi and he laughed and exclaimed how insensitive he’s been and immediately apologized. He lit up and exclaimed how awesome it was when I said I was falling for (again) the most amazing man (hard). He said how he has no issues with queer folk and told me of his gay friend with a similar background to me. He told me how, when he grew up, they used those terms all the time to effectively mean asshole but had no clue what they meant and that they had just become reflex - but that that was no excuse. That he had no problem not outing me to anyone else, though I’m close to being completely out. I was valued and appreciated.

And then, no joke, he asked me what I needed on my projects and the entire thing became, among other things, a pitch session and him putting many of his resources at my disposal.

Also, it turns out that the “firing” thing was because the other boss was freaking out about how a couple of business partners who were funding my salary simply didn’t like having to pay me and, for that reason alone which nothing to do with me, were looking for any excuse to “cut costs.” From my own deductions, I now realize that it’s mostly that I haven’t been putting up enough of a “show” of working on the rare occasion they’ve been around which is probably making it harder for that boss to defend me. Also, I’m 90% sure this is that guy’s first time managing someone and I know for a fact that this is his first time working in this industry and dealing with certain types of personalities - like said business partners. These are things that I have decades of experience with in one form or another so, now that I know that I know what his issues largely are, I plan on having a similar talk with him and offering my advice and support. I’ve been in that position before and watched it blow up in my face. Honestly, he’s fucking lucky it’s me and not someone else - they would have stormed out. I know. I’ve been the one stormed out on.

His main fault was not properly communicating to me how much of an issue these asshole business partners have been. I’ve been in his position many a time and now exactly how to compensate for that kind of bullshit. And because of his lack of communication, I haven’t been able to make his job easier by doing so.

I think there might be a couple of translation-to-this-industry issues as well so I’ll talk to him about that too. And, apparently, the boss I talked to has had to pull that boss aside a few times recently. Somethings going on with his personal life I feel.

So, yeah. That was probably the best coming-out-at-work experience I could have had. We’ll see if the boss I spoke to lives up to his promises but, as of now, things are looking up. I’m so glad that I haven’t been too traumatized in life that I can still hope. Maybe I’m just too stubborn an asshole to let it go. But it’s that hope that led me to try the diplomatic path. That allowed me to adhere to my values and belief that dialogue and understanding can solve nearly all situations so long as both sides listen.

And yes, those are Starfleet values. And if that’s too corny for you I have 2 things to say. 1) Read the above book-of-a-blog again and tell me how I’m wrong when EVERYONE else (except Mom) was telling me that the only solution was to quit in a righteous rage. 2) Fuck off you ignorant, pessimistic, little shit. #IAmStarfleet #FirstDutyToTheTruth #TrekTillIDie

I may still leave here soon for various other reasons, but now, rather than making enemies here I’ll leave with (assuming words meet deeds - which evidence so far here as indicated these are the kind of people where that’ll be the case) A) the use of these facilities for my own projects, B) plenty of time to prepare, and C) a financial cushion to aid in the transition.

Thanks to Danni, Alex, and Kaeden who’s support and affections have been crucial in helping me get to the point where I’m secure enough in my identity that I can tackle issues like this. Thank you for being my community.

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mattsammonsez · 6 years ago

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Wax Pack Wednesday: You Always Remember Your First

First love, first base hit, first professional goal... you always remember your first anything. Why do you remember your first? I think it has something to do with a life-changing event, it’s something new and different and your life will never be the same. Whether it’s a first child born in to your family, that first win your sports team got, or as we’ll discuss today... that first job. So what does that have to do with a box of gum-smelling cardboard from 1989 have to do with it?

If you have listened to my podcast Wax Ecstatic, you know where I’m going with this story. Rewind a little over 30 years ago, when I joined my mother on a grocery shopping trip to a neighborhood Publix supermarket in Seffner, Florida. This store wasn’t the usual one we shopped at, and I have no idea as I was approaching my 12th birthday why I decided to help mom with shopping, but there we were walking in to the store. I still remember it clearly-- as soon as we walked in, there was a giant bushel basket filled with those bright blue packs of baseball cards.

As I recall it was around August, which means Publix needed to clear out whatever baseball cards they had, as that was far from a staple item they sold. So the bushel basket had a large sign on it advertising a 3 for $1 sale, a nice mark-off of the usual 45 cents a pack. Even though I had never collected baseball cards, and had a pretty casual interest in professional sports, for some reason my mom turned to me and asked if I wanted some baseball cards. I said “yes”, and she put three in the cart. When we got back in our car after the shopping, I opened each pack and was hooked for much of my teenage years. By the 9th grade, I had amassed a collection of more than 52,000 sports cards as I became the poster child of the ballooning hobby then. Yet no matter how many I collected, how many I later sold off just to get them out of my house, and the fact that 30 years later I get to return the favor with my son, I still remember the events of that day in the late summer of 1989 like it was yesterday.

The first whiff of wax and bubblegum mixed with cardboard is much like that first day I stepped in to a radio studio at the University of Alabama at the beginning of the fall 1995 semester. I don’t recall the date, I think it would have been the last Saturday in August, and as an incoming freshman I naturally pulled a deserved shift-- Sunday morning from 1 to 6 a.m. Remember what I said yesterday about starting out at the lowest level and working on honing your craft? Nothing hones your broadcasting skills like playing alternative rock music to a bunch of drunk college students at 3 a.m. in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. And while I lost a lot of sleep working those hours, I still recall that first night.

I ate dinner just down the street at the old Buffalo Phil’s on University Boulevard. Not having a car, I walked to the station at about midnight, entering the studio extra early to pull my first hour of CDs. The hosts of the 10 p.m. - 1 a.m. shift were Jeb, Matt, and Mindi-- all still friends of mine to this day. They asked me what my air name was. I said “Sammy”, as that was a nickname my high school TV production teacher gave me. I was wearing a St. Louis Blues sweater, and one of the hosts said, “You’re Sammy the Hockey Guy!” So my on air persona was created in the early morning hours in the WVUA-FM studio. They finished their final hour, turned things over to me, and at 1 a.m. I fired off the legal ID followed by Green Day’s “Basketcase”.

While my first ever on-air shift was memorable, my first ever commercial radio on-air shift was even more memorable... and mostly for the wrong reasons. Even though I had been working in radio for just a couple of months, and had zero energy or personality on the air (I was a typical stare-at-your-shoes alternative rock guy from the 90s), I somehow got hired to do weekends at a classic rock station called Fox 95.7. I was trained on the board in mid-November, and my first shift was during the Alabama/Auburn football game. Back then, the station was an affiliate of the Alabama football radio network, and while I’m sure most people were watching the game on TV, I still felt a lot of responsibility running the board in the the home city of the Crimson Tide.

This being 1995, technology wasn’t quite where it is today. The station had a rather prehistoric digital automation system to play commercials from, but in my training I was assured that if I “just press this button” on the console the commercials would play. During my first local break in the game, I pressed the button and a 30-second promo for the station’s Sunday night 80s show played. And that was it... thankfully the network covered breaks with bonus spots, as I rejoined the network break mid-commercial. The next break, I pressed the button and AGAIN only the Sunday night 80s promo ran. This continued to happen over and over and over again. So what did I do to fix it? Nothing.

I was too scared... I didn’t call anyone to ask for help, I figured my professional career was over before it started as local businesses that paid a bunch of money to have their spots run in the game never got their spots aired because that $)@*#damned Sunday night 80s promo kept running. The game ended, I got back in to the local programming, and I feared what was next. Nothing was next... apparently nobody complained, or nobody noticed, and I’m guessing when I was on the board hosting the Sunday night 80s show the next night we probably had our largest audience thanks to the incessant promos that ran during the football game. Thankfully I kept that job, and coupled with my experience at the student station that school year I polished my craft a lot and started what is going on 25 years in the business.

So how does all of this tie in to those baseball cards from the Seffner Publix? It’s all about the firsts. And there are a lot of similarities-- the 1989 set wasn’t the best set Topps made, and thanks to millions of cards being made in 1989, the value of the cards is practically nothing. In fact, you can probably buy a complete factory set at a flea market for $5... a mere five times what my mother spent on those first three packs. WVUA wasn’t the best radio station in Tuscaloosa, but boy did we students think so. I can confirm we were better than at least half the stations in town, even on our 120-watt pea-shooter signal. And as for Fox 95.7, like ‘89 Topps it could have been so much better. Unfortunately the station was poorly run by the owner’s son, and as hard as we tried to make the station better he sold it in the summer of 1996. The new owners flipped the format to urban/rap, moved the operations to Birmingham, and to this day it’s still a top-performing station in a new life form as “95.7 Jamz”.

Those Topps baseball cards weren’t perfect, and neither was WVUA or Fox 95.7, but those were my firsts in collecting and in my career. Those imperfect firsts laid a foundation though, in collecting I would experience better sets and more valuable cards, while in my career I moved up to larger markets and oversaw operations of an NHL team’s broadcast operations. It all had to start somewhere. No matter where you start, remember your first.

Visit SammonSez.com to see how we can help you get from your “first” to your “next” in broadcasting and content creation!

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